The Bible in Spain: Or, the Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman, in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the PeninsulaBorrow, George
Religion
The Bible in Spain: Or, the Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman, in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the Peninsula
Borrow, George
Borrow, George, 1803-1881 -- Travel -- Spain; Spain -- Description and travel; Spain -- History -- 19th century
Having engaged with a person for mules to carry us to Evora, which were
to be ready at five next morning, I soon retired to bed, my servant
sleeping in the same apartment, which was the only one in the house
vacant. I closed not my eyes during the whole night. Beneath us was a
stable, in which some almocreves, or carriers, slept with their mules; at
our back, in the yard, was a pigsty. How could I sleep? The hogs
grunted, the mules screamed, and the almocreves snored most horribly. I
heard the village clock strike the hours until midnight, and from
midnight till four in the morning, when I sprang up and began to dress,
and despatched my servant to hasten the man with the mules, for I was
heartily tired of the place and wanted to leave it. An old man, bony and
hale, accompanied by a barefooted lad, brought the beasts, which were
tolerably good. He was the proprietor of them, and intended, with the
lad, who was his nephew, to accompany us to Evora.
When we started, the moon was shining brightly, and the morning was
piercingly cold. We soon entered on a sandy hollow way, emerging from
which we passed by a strange-looking and large edifice, standing on a
high bleak sand-hill on our left. We were speedily overtaken by five or
six men on horseback, riding at a rapid pace, each with a long gun slung
at his saddle, the muzzle depending about two feet below the horse’s
belly. I inquired of the old man what was the reason of this warlike
array. He answered, that the roads were very bad (meaning that they
abounded with robbers), and that they went armed in this manner for their
defence; they soon turned off to the right towards Palmella.
We reached a sandy plain studded with stunted pine; the road was little
more than a footpath, and as we proceeded, the trees thickened and became
a wood, which extended for two leagues, with clear spaces at intervals,
in which herds of cattle and sheep were feeding; the bells attached to
their necks were ringing lowly and monotonously. The sun was just
beginning to show itself; but the morning was misty and dreary, which,
together with the aspect of desolation which the country exhibited, had
an unfavourable effect on my spirits. I got down and walked, entering
into conversation with the old man. He seemed to have but one theme,
“the robbers,” and the atrocities they were in the habit of practising in
the very spots we were passing. The tales he told were truly horrible,
and to avoid them I mounted again, and rode on considerably in front.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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