The streets of Malaga always present an animated appearance. One never sees here that dead calm which pervades many of our northern cities in midsummer. At all hours of the day the air resounds with the sonorous voices of men and boys calling out whatever they may have to sell. Fish of all kinds, fruits, live turkeys and many other things may be obtained in this way, with the additional entertainment of listening to a loud and heated discussion between the servant and vender regarding the price. If the latter chances to be a boy, he summons a flood of tears to his assistance, having acquired, as a part of his occupation, the faculty of crying when occasion demands. The servant, accustomed to mechanical weeping, is immovable and the youthful imposter is finally compelled to receive a fair price for his wares. Every afternoon at five o’clock, an old man with a bright, cheerful face passes our window calling out “barquillos” in a clear, musical voice which makes itself heard at a long distance. The children crowd around him while he takes from a green box strapped over his shoulder, a tube made of light paste, on one end of which he puts a white foamy substance, composed of the whites of eggs and sugar. At this juncture, the little ones become frantic and jostle each other in a most unceremonious manner, in their eagerness to possess the delicate morsel. Each one is served and the poor old man goes on his way rejoicing ever the few quartas which will buy his daily bread. Barquillos are also obtained at restaurants as an accompaniment for ices, and seem to be relished by children of a larger growth, as well as others. The business of the ware houses commences at an early hour and continues through the day; carts drawn by mules are constantly passing while the industrious little donkeys may be seen marching in a line, following their leader, who has a bell to announce his coming. During the vintage, long lines of donkeys laden with boxes of raisins come from the vineyards, horses never being used except in cabs and private carriages. The cab horses are poor, old animals which seem to have lived as long as nature intended, but are kept alive by some mysterious agency, and by dint of much urging and whipping manage to move at a slow pace. One day, when we were taking a drive, the horse suddenly stopped and the driver dismounted. To our inquiry, as to the cause of delay he replied, “_no es nada_” (it is nothing), resumed his seat and we started again, but had not proceeded far when the animal absolutely refused to go; this time we insisted upon alighting and were coolly informed that the horse was only a little _cansado_ (tired). Many more instances might be cited illustrating the manner in which dumb animals are abused in a country where there are no laws prohibiting it, or if such laws exist they are not enforced.