When We Had Come At Last To The Last Course, We Turned Our Thoughts
Somewhat Anxiously To The Question Of
A guide for the town which we felt
so little able to explore without one; and it seemed to me
That I had
better ask the policeman who had brought us to our _fonda._ He was
sitting at the head of the stairs where we had left him, and so far from
being baffled by my problem, he instantly solved it by offering himself
to be our guide. Perhaps it was a profession which he merely joined to
his civic function, but it was as if we were taken into custody when he
put himself in charge of us and led us to the objects of interest which
I cannot say Tarifa abounds in. That is, if you leave out of the count
the irregular, to and fro, up and down, narrow lanes, passing the blank
walls of low houses, and glimpsing leafy and flowery _patios_ through
open gates, and suddenly expanding into broader streets and unexpected
plazas, with shops and cafes and churches in them.
Tarifa is perhaps the quaintest town left in the world, either in or out
of Spain, but whether it is more Moorish than parts of Cordova or
Seville I could not say. It is at least pre-eminent in a feature of the
women's costume which you are promised at the first mention of the
place, and which is said to be a survival of the Moslem civilization.
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