The Helmet of Mambrino 



Years have gone since that Cervan- 

 tean morning of ours, and to-day, my 

 friend, I am come from our dear 

 Spain. 



As I journeyed in the consecrated 

 realm of Don Quixote, it happened 

 to me to pass a night " down in a 

 village of La Mancha, the name of 

 which I have no desire to recollect." 



Late in the evening, after a long 

 day in the saddle, we had stopped at 

 an humble posada on the outskirts of 

 an old pueblo, too tired to press on 

 in search of better accommodations, 

 which we believed the town would 

 probably afford. We were glad enough 

 to tie our weary animals to their iron 

 rings within the posada, and fling 

 ourselves down to sleep in the door- 

 way, lulled by the comfortable munch- 

 ing sound of the beasts, and fanned 

 by a soft wind which came fitfully 

 from the south. 



The mild, dry night, wherein thin 



8 



