otection from its governors as they are in the habit of
affording to those who are of quiet and well-ordered life, and are
disposed to be buxom and obedient to the customs and laws of the
republic.”

“He speaks well,” said the _alcalde_, glancing around.

“Yes, he speaks well,” said the bulky Alavese; “there is no denying it.”

“I never heard any one speak better,” cried the blacksmith, starting up
from a stool on which he was seated.  “_Vaya_! he is a big man and a fair
complexioned, like myself.  I like him, and have a horse that will just
suit him; one that is the flower of Spain, and is eight inches above the
mark.”

I then, with another bow, presented my passport to the _alcalde_, who,
with a gentle motion of his hand, appeared to decline taking it, at the
same time saying, “It is not necessary.”  “Oh, not at all,” exclaimed the
surgeon.  “The housekeepers of Villa Seca know how to comport themselves
with formality,” observed the blacksmith.  “They would be very loth to
harbour any suspicion against a cavalier so courteous and well spoken.”
Knowing, however, that this refusal amounted to nothing, and that it
merely formed part of a polite ceremonial, I proffered the passport a
second time, whereupon it was instantly taken, and in a moment the eyes
of all present were bent upon it with intense curiosity.  It was examined
from top to bottom, and turned round repeatedly, and though it is not
probable that an individual present understood a word of it, it being
written in French, it gave nevertheless universal satisfaction; and when
the _alcalde_, carefully folding it up, returned it to me, they all
observed that they had never seen a better passport in their lives, or
one which spake in higher terms of the bearer.

Who was it said that “Cervantes sneered Spain’s chivalry away”? {190}  I
know not; and the author of such a line scarcely deserves to be
remembered.  How the rage for scribbling tempts people at the present day
to write about lands and nations of which they