Bacalao 



above his station in point of intelligence. He spoke French 

 and said he had been exiled for his political opinions, and 

 had lived at Bayonne. 



It was beginning to be cold, and they lighted a blazing 

 fire ; not in any fire-place, but on the mud floor, opposite 

 the window, which aperture had more the effect of blowing 

 the smoke about into all parts of the kitchen than of letting 

 any out. Meanwhile a large party of exceedingly out- 

 landish figures in zamarras (fur jackets), and sheepskin 

 breeches, and red stockings, and leggings of panno pardo, 

 had arrived, and were busy about preparing their supper. 



They produced a certain number of what, by the uncer- 

 tain firelight, seemed to be triangular pieces of thin board. 

 These they stuffed into the flame, and held them there 

 a little while ; then taking them out, and bending and 

 breaking them up, I discovered that they were dried fish, 

 which they were singeing thus to soften previous to stew- 

 ing. I asked what it was called, and being told that it was 

 bacalao^ rejoiced greatly that I had at least seen what Don 

 Quixote supped upon in the venta, the first night of his 

 Primer a Salida (first sally). 



These men told me they were come with several carros 

 (waggons) of wool from Estremadura, and, hearing I was 

 an Englishman, concluded I was going to the copper-mines 

 at Rio Tinto. They admired my manta^ and asked where 

 it was made, and what it cost. 



I asked if I could have a cup of chocolate before I went 

 to bed. The mo'z.o went out and bought a cake, and the 

 posadera made it in a copper pot, stirring it with a stick 

 stuck into a nicked wooden wheel at the bottom, which she 

 trundled, — rolling the protruding handle between the palms 

 of her hands. The chocolate was good, but as to goino- to 

 bed, that was not feasible, for there was none. 



96 



