It may then be reduced almost wholly to vowel sounds, and
from the lips of some speakers it is really no more consonantal than if
it came from the beaks of birds. They do not lisp the soft _c_ or the
_z,_ as the Castilians do, but hiss them, and lisp the _s_ instead, as
the readerwill find amusingly noted in the Sevillian chapters of _The
Sister of San Sulpice,_ which are the most charming chapters of that
most charming novel. At the stations there were sometimes girls and
sometimes boys with water for sale from stone bottles, who walked by the
cars crying it; and there were bits of bright garden, or there were
flowers in pots. There were also poor little human flowers, or call them
weeds, if you will, that suddenly sprang up beside our windows, and
moved their petals in pitiful prayer for alms. They always sprang up on
the off side of the train, so that the trainmen could not see them, but
I hope no trainman in Spain would have had the heart to molest them. As
a matter of taste in vegetation, however, we preferred an occasional
effect of mixed orange and pomegranate trees, with their perennial green
and their autumnal red. We were, in fact, so spoiled by the profusion of
these little human flowers, or weeds, that we even liked the change to
the dried stalk of an old man, flowering at top into a flat basket of
pale-pink shrimps.
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