In the secluded places of Spain, even yet, on the bell tolling at “oration,” whoever is walking, stops; whoever is seated, rises; the prayer concluded, each turns round and salutes those around him. What can be more impressive than this sudden and simultaneous act of adoration of a whole people, followed by a mutual expression of goodwill from man to man. This could not survive. From the forms of salutation meaning is not yet expelled. No one sends as a message, “Give my compliments.” It would be asked, “What compliments?” The Spaniard, like the Eastern, says, “I kiss such a one’s hand, or I lay myself at such a lady’s feet.” Our word compliment is equal to their word ceremony; and our compliments they render _espressiones_. These matters are, however, abridged. The _espressiones_ are run up in an unintelligible articulation when spoken, and when written are reduced to a cypher. You may receive a letter ending “S. S. S. Q. S. M. B,”[104] and take it, as I once did, for a charade instead of a compliment. Unlike the Eastern, the Spaniard has the word “thanks;” but it is not his sole resource in the embarrassment occasioned among some nations by every act or speech of civility. When one Spaniard says to another, “Do you please to eat with me?” the other does not say, “No, I thank you;” but, “may it do you good.” When he says, “This house is at your disposal,” the answer is not, “I thank you,” or “I am much obliged to you,” but “You know me to serve you.” Civility and ceremony do not belong to particular classes. There is not a refined and a vulgar class. The humblest address each other with the forms of the highest. Two human beings do not require an introduction to know each other; they never pass without salutation. No one breaks bread in the presence of another, whatever the difference of rank, without an invitation to partake. The title of the pastrycook on his sign-board is no other than that of the king. The master is as courtier-like to his servant as to his equal. The beggar is not turned away, even from the door of a tavern, and when he is refused by a prince, it is with the words, “Pardon me, brother.” “To the honour of Spain,” says even Borrow, “be it spoken, it is one of the few countries in Europe where poverty is never insulted, nor looked on with contempt. In their social intercourse no people exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the dignity of human nature. I have said that it is one of the few countries in Europe where poverty is not treated with contempt: I may add, where the wealthy are not blindly idolized.” Riches and poverty are deprived of their peculiar qualities; the first losing the value which they owe to exclusiveness, the other, sufferings contingent on privation. By the facile interchange which these habits have established, their circumstances are influenced no less than their minds, and the extremes of fortune are modified and equalised.