VILAFLOR 7 1 



so there he remains, with his grey head slightly on one 

 side, and doesn't seem at all perturbed. Nevertheless, 

 he watches us through the forest, gliding above us with 

 outspread wings, and then floats down to the valley 

 below. 



We retrace our steps, passing the water-course 

 above the village, where the Grey Wagtail catches 

 flies in the air, or sits balancing his long tail. He is 

 always there, except when the washerwomen have taken 

 possession of the place, when he balances his tail from 

 a distance and wonders when they will cease their 

 everlasting "clack, clack," with its accompaniment of 

 wet linen dabbed down on stones, and their cackling 

 laughter. 



The pace at which some of these women talk is 

 almost incredible. There are no pauses, and each 

 syllable is dropped out with very nearly the rapidity 

 of the punctuations of a sewing machine ; and when it 

 is explained that the poorer class of Spaniards in these 

 islands frequently clip both the beginning and end of 

 some words, often substitute an / for an r, and hardly 

 ever pronounce the s at all, the difficulty of making out 

 what they say will be to some extent understood. 



My friend Mr. W., who accompanied me on this 

 expedition, left Vilaflor for Orotava after a stay of a 

 few days, I remaining a little while longer. Imagine 

 my state of feelings then, shortly after his departure, 

 when our landlady, by name Livoria Cano, came in at 

 breakfast time and clacked off an interminable flow of 

 words at me, none of which I in the least understood. 

 If she had brought in the coffee-mill and ground it at 

 me I should have been quite as much enlightened. 



