A Beautiful Boy Of About Thirteen Now Came From The Direction Of
The Town, Running Along The Road With The Velocity Of A Hare:
He
stopped before the dead mule and burst into tears:
It was the
man's son, who had heard of the accident from Antonio. This was
too much for the poor fellow: he ran up to the boy, and said,
"Don't cry, our bread is gone, but it is God's will; the mule is
dead!" He then flung himself on the ground, uttering fearful
cries. "I could have borne my loss," said he, "but when I saw my
child cry, I became a fool." I gave him two or three crowns, and
added some words of comfort; assuring him I had no doubt that, if
he abandoned drink, the Almighty God would take compassion on him
and repair his loss. At length he became more composed, and
placing my baggage in the chaise, we returned to the town, where I
found two excellent riding mules awaiting my arrival at the inn. I
did not see the Spanish woman, or I should have told her of the
little efficacy of rosemary in this instance.
I have known several drunkards amongst the Portuguese, but, without
one exception, they have been individuals who, having travelled
abroad, like this fellow, have returned with a contempt for their
own country, and polluted with the worst vices of the lands which
they have visited.
I would strongly advise any of my countrymen who may chance to read
these lines, that, if their fate lead them into Spain or Portugal,
they avoid hiring as domestics, or being connected with,
individuals of the lower classes who speak any other language than
their own, as the probability is that they are heartless thieves
and drunkards.
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