Description, taking him away from men and from his active self, often lured him into this kind of thing. And, nevertheless, such is Borrow that I should by no means employ a gentleman of refinement to go over "The Bible in Spain" and cross out the like. It all helps in the total of half theatrical and wholly wild exuberance and robustness. Another minute contributory element of style is the Biblical phrasing. His home and certainly his work for the Society had made him familiar with the Bible. He quotes it several times in passages which bring him into comparison, if not equality, with Jesus and with Paul. A little after quoting, "Ride on, because of the word of righteousness," he writes: "I repaired to the aqueduct, and sat down beneath the hundred and seventh arch, where I waited the greater part of the day, _but he came not_, _whereupon I arose and went into the city_." He is fond of "even," saying, for example, or making Judah Lib say, "He bent his way unto the East, _even to Jerusalem_." The "beauteous luminary" vein and the Biblical vein may be said to be inseparable from the long cloak, the sombrero, the picturesque romance and mystery of Spain, as they appeared to one for whom romance and mystery alike were never without pomp. But with all his rant he is invariably substantial, never aerial, and he chequers it in a Byronic manner with a sudden prose reference to bugs, or a question, or a piece of dialogue. His dialogue can hardly be over-praised. It is life-like in its effect, though not in its actual phrases, and it breaks up the narrative and description over and over again at the right time. What he puts into the mouth of shepherds with whom he sits round the fire is more than twice as potent as if it were in his own narrative; he varies the point of view, and yet always without allowing himself to disappear from the scene--he, the _senor_ traveller. These spoken words are, it is true, in Borrow's own style, with little or no colloquialism, but they are simpler. They also, in their turn, are broken up by words or phrases from the language of the speaker. The effect of this must vary with the reader. The learned will not pause, some of the unlearned will be impatient. But as a glossary was afterwards granted at Ford's suggestion, and is now to be had in the cheapest editions of "The Bible in Spain," these few hundred Spanish or Gypsy words are at least no serious stumbling block. I find them a very distinct additional flavour in the style. A good writer can afford these mysteries. Children do not boggle at the unpronounceable names of a good book like "The Arabian Nights," but rather use them as charms, like Izaak Walton's marrow of the thighbone of a heron or a piece of mummy. The bullfighter speaks: "'Cavaliers and strong men, this cavalier is the friend of a friend of mine. _Es mucho hombre_. There is none like him in Spain. He speaks the crabbed _Gitano_, though he is an _Inglesito_.'