The Purple Land: Being the Narrative of One Richard Lamb's Adventures in The Banda Orientál, in South America, as Told By HimselfHudson, W. H. (William Henry)
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The Purple Land: Being the Narrative of One Richard Lamb's Adventures in The Banda Orientál, in South America, as Told By Himself
Hudson, W. H. (William Henry)
Adventure stories; British -- Uruguay -- Fiction; Uruguay -- Fiction
“'That is what I like,' said I; 'for I do not love to go about like a
drunk man embracing strangers. But our acquaintance is not of yesterday,
for we have looked into and know each other, even to the bowels and to
the marrow in the bones. Why, then, should we meet as strangers, since
we have never had a difference, or any occasion to speak ill of each
other?'
“'And how should we speak ill,' replied Manuel, 'since it has never
entered into either of us, even in a dream, to do the other an injury?
Some there are, who, loving me badly, would blow up your head like a
bladder with lies if they could, laying I know not what things to my
charge, when--heaven knows--they themselves are perhaps the authors of
all they so readily blame me for.'
“'If you speak,' said I, 'of the cattle I have lost, trouble not
yourself about such trifles; for if those who speak evil of you, only
because they themselves are evil, were listening, they might say, This
man begins to defend himself when no one has so much as thought of
drawing against him.'
“'True, there is nothing they will not say of me,' said Manuel;
'therefore I am dumb, for nothing is to be gained by speaking. They have
already judged me, and no man wishes to be made a liar.'
“'As for me,' I said, 'I never doubted you, knowing you to be a man,
honest, sober, and diligent. If in anything you had given offence I
should have told you of it, so great is my frankness towards all men.'
“'All that you tell me I firmly believe,' said he, 'for I know that you
are not one that wears a mask like others. Therefore, relying on your
great openness in all things, I come to you about these horses; for I
love not dealing with those who shake you out a whole bushel of chaff
for every grain of corn.'
“'But, Manuel,' said I, 'you know that I am not made of gold, and that
the mines of Peru were not left to me for an inheritance. You ask a high
price for your horses.'
“'I do not deny it,' he replied. 'But you are not one to stop your ears
against reason and poverty when they speak. My horses are my only wealth
and happiness, and I have no glory but them.'
“'Frankly, then,' I answered, 'to-morrow I will tell you yes or no.'
“'Let it be as you say; but, friend, if you will close with me tonight I
will abate something from the price.'
“'If you wish to abate anything,' said I, 'let it be to-morrow, for I
have accounts to make up to-night and a thousand things to think of.'
“After that Manuel got on to his horse and rode away. It was black and
rainy, but he had never needed moon or lantern to find what he sought by
night, whether his own house, or a fat cow--also his own, perhaps.
“Then I went to bed. The first question I asked myself, when I had blown
out the candle, was, Are there fat wethers enough in my flock to pay for
the cream-noses? Then I asked, How many fat wethers will it take at the
price Don Sebastian--a miserly cheat be it said in passing--offers me a
head for them to make up the amount I require?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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