His
face was covered with carbuncles, and his breath impregnated with
the fumes of strong waters.
He wished much to converse with me in
French, in the speaking of which language it seemed he prided
himself, but I refused, and told him to speak the language of the
country, or I would hold no discourse with him.
Wednesday was stormy, with occasional rain. On coming down, I
found that my friend from Palmella had departed: but several
contrabandistas had arrived from Spain. They were mostly fine
fellows, and unlike the two I had seen the preceding week, who were
of much lower degree, were chatty and communicative; they spoke
their native language, and no other, and seemed to hold the
Portuguese in great contempt. The magnificent tones of the Spanish
sounded to great advantage amidst the shrill squeaking dialect of
Portugal. I was soon in deep conversation with them, and was much
pleased to find that all of them could read. I presented the
eldest, a man of about fifty years of age, with a tract in Spanish.
He examined it for some time with great attention; he then rose
from his seat, and going into the middle of the apartment, began
reading it aloud, slowly and emphatically; his companions gathered
around him, and every now and then expressed their approbation of
what they heard. The reader occasionally called upon me to explain
passages which, as they referred to particular texts of Scripture,
he did not exactly understand, for not one of the party had ever
seen either the Old or New Testament.
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