Leaves from a Madeira Garden 



unfrequented valleys and meet with nothing 

 but civility from the sparse inhabitants. Times 

 and manners have changed for the better since 

 the beginning of the eighteenth century, when 

 Dr. Hans Sloan tells us that every tradesman 

 wore his short doublet, and for the most part a 

 black cloak with a long big-hilted dagger under 

 it, a sharp knife being in his pocket. No man 

 dared go into the street after dark, lest any one 

 who had a grudge against him should shoot 

 him, or lest he should be taken in the dark for 

 another man. Dr. Sloan was told that a small 

 piece of money to a negro would purchase any 

 man's life. He mentions having been called in 

 to treat a priest who had been shot at in the 

 night by some one who took him for another. 



But there Is a very lax state of public opinion 

 as regards petty theft. Unless you keep watch- 

 dogs, you will have your poultry and your fruit 

 stolen by night. The authorities seem to be 

 reluctant to enforce the penalties against such 

 offences. Not long since, a neighbour's gar- 

 dener caught a man handing some bundles of 

 bananas over my garden wall late at night and 

 apprehended him as he descended himself. He 

 called to my gardener, and together they haled 



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