The Bible in Spain, Vol. 2 [of 2]: 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, Vol. 2 [of 2]: 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
On all sides there was grandeur and sublimity. After gazing from the
summit of the cape for nearly an hour, we descended.
On reaching the house where we had taken up our temporary habitation, we
perceived that the portal was occupied by several men, some of whom were
reclining on the floor drinking wine out of small earthen pans, which are
much used in this part of Galicia. With a civil salutation I passed on,
and ascended the staircase to the room in which we had taken our repast.
Here there was a rude and dirty bed, on which I flung myself, exhausted
with fatigue. I determined to take a little repose, and in the evening
to call the people of the place together, to read a few chapters of the
Scripture, and then to address them with a little Christian exhortation.
I was soon asleep, but my slumbers were by no means tranquil. I thought
I was surrounded with difficulties of various kinds, amongst rocks and
ravines, vainly endeavouring to extricate myself; uncouth visages showed
themselves amidst the trees and in the hollows, thrusting out cloven
tongues, and uttering angry cries. I looked around for my guide, but
could not find him; methought, however, that I heard his voice down a
deep dingle. He appeared to be talking of me. How long I might have
continued in these wild dreams I know not. I was suddenly, however,
seized roughly by the shoulder, and nearly dragged from the bed. I
looked up in amazement, and by the light of the descending sun I beheld
hanging over me a wild and uncouth figure; it was that of an elderly man,
built as strong as a giant, with much beard and whisker, and huge bushy
eyebrows, dressed in the habiliments of a fisherman; in his hand was a
rusty musket.
_Myself_.—Who are you, and what do you want?
_Figure_.—Who I am matters but little. Get up and follow me; it is you I
want.
_Myself_.—By what authority do you thus presume to interfere with me?
_Figure_.—By the authority of the _justicia_ of Finisterre. Follow me
peaceably, Calros, or it will be the worse for you.
“Calros,” said I, “what does the person mean?” I thought it, however,
most prudent to obey his command, and followed him down the staircase.
The shop and the portal were now thronged with the inhabitants of
Finisterre, men, women, and children; the latter for the most part in a
state of nudity, and with bodies wet and dripping, having been probably
summoned in haste from their gambols in the brine. Through this crowd
the figure whom I have attempted to describe pushed his way with an air
of authority.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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