FAR AND NEAR 



My son and Mr. Kellogg had gone on ahead of the 

 carriage, and we found them with their cameras set 

 up on the farther side of the Rio Minho, waiting to 

 photograph the women and donkeys as they forded 

 the stream. The women divined their purpose; a 

 large squad had collected in front of them, refusing 

 to be the subjects of a picture till they were paid. 

 "Give us money; give us money, bucra massa." 

 One old woman, between sixty and seventy, I should 

 say, had upon her head a burden that weighed 

 about as many pounds. I tossed her a penny to 

 placate her a bit, for she protested the most loudly 

 of any, and she tried to pick up the coin without 

 removing her burden, but could not quite do it, so 

 I got down from the wagon and handed it to her, 

 and got a graceful curtsy for my pains. Bowing 

 the head is out of the question with such burdens 

 as they carry. We bought tangerines and oranges 

 of the women; still they refused to move on, and 

 their numbers increased. One old woman had eggs 

 to sell. I handed one of them to Kellogg, and asked 

 him if he thought it was fresh. Now Kellogg has a 

 way of imitating the yeaf of a young chicken that 

 deceives the mother hen herself. He shook the egg 

 and placed it to his ear. Faint but clear came the 

 distressed yea-p of the imprisoned chick. I heard 

 it, and others heard; the old woman heard it, 

 and, as the cry continued, a curious, surprised, in- 

 credulous look came over her face. " I fear they are 

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