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Howells, William Dean, 1837-1920

"Familiar Spanish Travels"

We had read much
of the song and dance there, but though the dance might be hired the
song was never offered for love or money. To be sure, in Toledo, once, a
woman came to her door across the way under otir hotel window and sang
over the slops she emptied into the street, but then she shut the door
and we heard her no more. In Cprdova there was as brief a peal of music
from a house which we passed, and in Algeciras we heard one short sweet
strain from a girl whom we could not see behind her lattice. Besides
these chance notes we heard no other by any chance. But this is by no
means saying that there is not abundant song in Spain, only it was kept
quiet; I suppose that if we had been there in the spring instead of the
fall we should at least have heard the birds singing. In Madrid there
were not even many street cries; a few in the Puerta del Sol, yes; but
the peasants who drove their mule-teams through the streets scarcely
lifted their voices in reproach or invitation; they could trust the wise
donkeys that led them to get them safely through the difficult places.
There was no audible quarreling among the cabmen, and when you called a
cab it was useless to cry "Heigh!" or shake your umbrella; you made play
with your thumb and finger in the air and sibilantly whispered;
otherwise the cabman ignored you and went on reading his newspaper.


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