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
We started, my uncouth guide sitting tailor-fashion on the sumpter mule
upon the baggage. The moon had just gone down, and the morning was
pitchy dark, and, as usual, piercingly cold. He soon entered the dismal
wood, which I had already traversed, and through which we wended our way
for some time, slowly and mournfully. Not a sound was to be heard save
the trampling of the animals, not a breath of air moved the leafless
branches, no animal stirred in the thickets, no bird, not even the owl,
flew over our heads, all seemed desolate and dead, and during my many and
far wanderings, I never experienced a greater sensation of loneliness,
and a greater desire for conversation and an exchange of ideas than then.
To speak to the idiot was useless, for though competent to show the road,
with which he was well acquainted, he had no other answer than an uncouth
laugh to any question put to him. Thus situated, like many other persons
when human comfort is not at hand, I turned my heart to God, and began to
commune with Him, the result of which was that my mind soon became
quieted and comforted.
We passed on our way uninterrupted; no thieves showed themselves, nor
indeed did we see a single individual until we arrived at Pegoens, and
from thence to Vendas Novas our fortune was the same. I was welcomed
with great kindness by the people of the hostelry of the latter place,
who were well acquainted with me on account of my having twice passed the
night under their roof. The name of the keeper of this is, or was, Jozé
Dias Azido, and unlike the generality of those of the same profession as
himself in Portugal, he is an honest man, and a stranger and foreigner
who takes up his quarters at his inn, may rest assured that he will not
be most unmercifully pillaged and cheated when the hour of reckoning
shall arrive, as he will not be charged a single ré more than a native
Portuguese on a similar occasion. I paid at this place exactly one half
of the sum which was demanded from me at Arroyolos, where I passed the
ensuing night, and where the accommodation was in every respect inferior.
At twelve next day we arrived at Monte Moro, and, as I was not pressed
for time, I determined upon viewing the ruins which cover the top and
middle part of the stately hill which towers above the town. Having
ordered some refreshment at the inn where we dismounted, I ascended till
I arrived at a large wall or rampart, which, at a certain altitude
embraces the whole hill. I crossed a rude bridge of stones, which
bestrides a small hollow or trench; and passing by a large tower, entered
through a portal into the enclosed part of the hill. On the left hand
stood a church, in good preservation, and still devoted to the purposes
of religion, but which I could not enter, as the door was locked, and I
saw no one at hand to open it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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