Spain in 1830, vol. 1Inglis, Henry D. (Henry David)
History
Spain in 1830, vol. 1
Inglis, Henry D. (Henry David)
Spain -- Description and travel
Leaving Bilbao, the road winds through a narrow valley among hills
covered to the summit with oak, and rising to the height of between 2000
and 3000 feet; the valley, varying in breadth from one to two miles, is
every where cultivated; the crops, even at this early period, were
already partly reaped; and in many places the country people were busy
in the fields. Every where around, there was much picturesque beauty and
many rural pictures: a little rivulet flowed in capricious turnings
through the valley; and as Biscayan industry always carries a road
straight forward, whatever obstacles are encountered, the stream was
spanned every few hundred yards by a stone bridge, built in the form of
an aqueduct, and generally grown over with ivy: fine old Spanish
chestnut trees were scattered over the meadows that bordered the stream,
and here and there groups of cattle stood, or lay under them. This kind
of scenery continued the same for about six leagues, when we stopped at
a small town to dine, and refresh the mules. At this village we were
destined to fare ill. We were ushered into a room where a priest, and
two other persons, had finished what seemed by its wrecks to have been
an excellent repast: and the table was immediately cleared to make way
for our entertainment: silver spoons and forks, handsome wine decanters,
of crystal gilt, and clean napkins, seemed to announce something
respectable; but the dinner, when it appeared, consisted of a little
cold fish, and the bones--literally the bones, of the chickens which the
priest and his friends had picked! I made my way into the kitchen, and
discovering a fine fat hen roasting, and almost ready for the table, I
began to repent my too hasty condemnation of the entertainment; but upon
telling the master that the fowl was sufficiently roasted, I was
informed that it was not for me, but for the muleteer, who in Spain
always fares better than those whom he conducts. I was forced,
therefore, to return to the cold fish and chicken bones, for which the
landlord had the effrontery to charge twelve _reals_. I paid him,
however, only one half of his demand, and got into the waggon, followed
only by a few Biscayan growls.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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