A Floral Rite 



and that is the legitimate end of flowers." (Here the other 

 honourable gentleman was understood to suggest, "Bees 

 also, perhaps ! ") " Well, honey is the food of poets." 

 ("Possibly prose writers also," says he.) "However that 

 may be," continued I, overriding these unimportant pro- 

 tests in the impetus of my enthusiasm, " here shall be per- 

 formed a rite," — kneeling down before a smooth sandy 

 place, and with my dagger tracing a certain lady's name 

 upon the ground (while I was doing which, the Moor also 

 went down on his knees three times — wishing very much to 

 have a roll in the warm sun-baked sand), and on each letter 

 of that name I strewed a little heap of the wild flowers of 

 the wilderness, that the winds and the rain might be longer 

 in wearing that frail monument away. 



Well, we jogged on, and on Guadiaro's further bank 

 nearly came to dagger's-drawings with the ferryman about 

 some inconsiderable amount of which he felt it his privilege 

 to cheat us. 



After this we approached the coast again, and got into 

 very rough riding among mountain-tops from which we saw 

 the white towers of Estepona rising from the blue sea at a 

 great distance — in fact, a hopeless distance, as it was sloping 

 towards sunset. However, we plunged recklessly down 

 almost impassable gorges and lost ourselves in deep valleys 

 (and were shouted at by peasants from the other side of 

 one, for riding over precipitous, swampy barley-fields), and 

 climbed out again, and at last, when it was dark, scram- 

 bled down to the sea-side where we found a fort and a 

 vent a. 



Here we bought some fish of a little boy with a basket. 

 A great heap of corn had to be moved out of the only spare 

 place where we could sleep. They gave us one large mat- 

 tress, and after supper we went to bed, I in vny jillabiah 



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