Empty Praise and Solid Pudding 



for something to cook, the strumming of guitars and the 

 gingling thump of tambourines, and a sound of voices, came 

 along the street. Soon after this musical procession had 

 passed, the husband and two sisters of our hostess came in. 



To the younger of these, who seemed a brisk little body, 

 we addressed our petition for supper ; and while she was 

 kindling the kitchen-fire, by way of stimulus to her activity, 

 I complimented her on her good looks. 



She turned upon me rather fiercely, and said in a tragic 

 tone, " Yo no ^oy guapa " (I am not pretty), and seemed dis- 

 posed to think I was speaking ironically. And, indeed, I 

 saw the reason why, when, by the flame springing from the 

 kindling, it was apparent that her face was marked with a 

 slight fret-work of small-pox, illustrating the decided advan- 

 tage of chiselled features over gouged. 



I saw no way out of my dilemma, but by roundly 

 affirming, that I meant what I said, and would affirm to all 

 contradicentes except herself, that she was muy guapita. 

 And though she continued sulky for a while, she shortly 

 began to relent, as her vanity persuaded her to surmise that 

 I might have been in earnest. By the time supper was 

 ready, the compliment had worked on her constitution, and 

 she waited upon us and stopped to converse in a most 

 affable manner. 



She told us her sister had been very ill ever since her 

 confinement three weeks ago, and was queer in her head, 

 poor thing : but the baby was a beautiful baby. She 

 admired our silver buttons and clasps, told us about the 

 procession, which, in the absorption of supper, I grieve to 

 say I did not pay sufficient attention to, and have forgotten 

 all about. 



Next morning we rode along a pretty valley to Briviesca. 

 The stream ran northward, and the blue mountains of the 



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