Peasant Women Carried Bunches
Of Chickens By The Legs, And One Had A Turkey In A Rush Bag With A
Narrow Neck To Put Its Head Out Of For Its Greater Convenience In
Gobbling.
At the door of the station a donkey tried to bite a fly on its
back; but even a Spanish donkey cannot do everything.
There was no
attempt to cheat us in the weight of our trunks, as there often is in
Italy, and the _mozo_ who put us and our hand-bags into the train was
content with his reasonable fee. As for the pair of Civil Guards who
were to go with us, they were of an insurpassable beauty and propriety,
and we felt it a peculiar honor when one of them got into the
compartment beside ours.
We were to take the mail-train to Seville; and in Spain the _correo_ is
next to the Sud-Express, which is the last word in the vocabulary of
Peninsular railroading. Our _correo_ had been up all night on the way
from Madrid, and our compartment had apparently been used as a
bedchamber, with moments of supper-room. It seemed to have been occupied
by a whole family; there were frowsy pillows crushed into the corners of
the seats, and, though a porter caught these away, the cigar stubs, and
the cigarette ashes strewing the rug and fixed in it with various
liquids, as well as some scattering hair-pins, escaped his care. But
when it was dried and aired out by windows opened to the sunny weather,
it was by no means a bad compartment.
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