Guides 



into London by Rotten-row on cart hobby-horses. We had 

 forgotten the name of our hotel too, and had to go about 

 making inquiries among the staring crowd. The people 

 were all dressed in the pink of Parisian fashion, and no 

 doubt looked upon us as a pair of exceedingly quaint bar- 

 barians from some rustic village of the Sierras. At last we 

 found some one who knew the name of our landlord, which 

 was all we recollected, and directed us to the Fonda de la 

 Arnistad. 



To our great delight the portmantos had arrived from 

 Seville, and we should be able to dress ourselves like 

 Christians once again. They had come some days before, 

 and had been got through the Custom-house (locked and 

 sealed up) by the persuasion of the fair Sefiora Vasquez, 

 whose lindos ojos [beaux yeux) had smiled away the official 

 punctilios of the doganero. We rushed into the luxuries of 

 soap and water and clean linen. 



While we were dressing, our door was beaten by not less 

 than a dozen applicants, who expressed, through the key- 

 hole, in various degrees of approximation to French and 

 English, a desire to guide us about Granada. Everybody 

 here is a guide, from the ostler in the stables — who took 

 occasion, while I was washing the Moor's sore shoulder, to 

 recommend himself — to the man who showed us up to our 

 rooms, and mentioned that he was not the waiter, but a 

 guide, as he brought the hot water. This was a good- 

 looking young man, dressed in the pink of 7najo fashion, all 

 over silver brooches and tags, whom we had taken to be the 

 brother of our hostess. He proved to be a son of the cele- 

 brated Bensaken ; and while we were at dinner he returned 

 to the charge, bringing two volumes of testimonies to his 

 father's qualities as a guide. We told him that it was 

 against our principles ever to be led about, and that, in fact, 



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