﻿74 
  

  

  THE 
  NATIONAL 
  GEOGRAPHIC 
  MAGAZINE 
  

  

  Photograph 
  by 
  Casa 
  Eux 
  

   UTTlvE 
  "SENORITAS" 
  OE 
  THE 
  PEASANT 
  

   CLASS 
  IN 
  BASQUE 
  COSTUMES 
  

  

  The 
  worker 
  appears 
  on 
  the 
  streets 
  with 
  

   his 
  long 
  blue 
  blouse 
  hanging 
  tothe 
  knees, 
  

   hurrying 
  along 
  noiselessly 
  in 
  his 
  alpar- 
  

   gatas, 
  like 
  canvas 
  tennis 
  shoes 
  with 
  soles 
  

   of 
  coiled 
  rope, 
  and 
  his 
  boina, 
  a 
  tiny 
  blue 
  

   cap 
  with 
  no 
  visor, 
  like 
  a 
  small 
  tam-o'- 
  

   shanter, 
  with 
  a 
  piece 
  of 
  string 
  an 
  inch 
  

   long 
  replacing 
  the 
  pompon, 
  set 
  at 
  a 
  rakish 
  

   angle 
  on 
  his 
  head. 
  

  

  Generally 
  there 
  is 
  also 
  a 
  shawl, 
  nearly 
  

   as 
  large 
  as 
  a 
  steamer 
  rug 
  and 
  of 
  about 
  

   the 
  same 
  color 
  scheme, 
  rolled 
  up 
  on 
  his 
  

   shoulders, 
  with 
  a 
  generous 
  piece 
  across 
  

   the 
  lower 
  part 
  of 
  the 
  face 
  to 
  protect 
  him 
  

   against 
  the 
  possibility 
  of 
  inhaling 
  pure 
  

   fresh 
  air. 
  

  

  Seabirds, 
  attracted 
  the 
  night 
  before 
  by 
  

   the 
  lights 
  of 
  the 
  city, 
  soar 
  over 
  the 
  red 
  

   tiles 
  of 
  the 
  flat 
  roofs, 
  and, 
  finally 
  tiring 
  

   of 
  city 
  life, 
  spread 
  their 
  wings 
  for 
  the 
  

   flighl 
  put 
  to 
  their 
  accustomed 
  haunts 
  over 
  

   the 
  wild 
  Bay 
  of 
  Biscay. 
  

  

  In 
  the 
  older 
  parts 
  of 
  town 
  the 
  iron 
  

   curtain 
  covering 
  both 
  door 
  and 
  single 
  

   window 
  of 
  the 
  little 
  stores, 
  taverns, 
  and 
  

   wine 
  shops 
  of 
  the 
  poorer 
  classes 
  is 
  pushed 
  

   up 
  with 
  a 
  rattle 
  and 
  the 
  place 
  is 
  then 
  open 
  

   for 
  business. 
  The 
  church 
  bells 
  call 
  the 
  

  

  faithful 
  to 
  early 
  mass, 
  and 
  among 
  them 
  

   are 
  many 
  women 
  garbed 
  in 
  black, 
  further 
  

   intensified 
  by 
  the 
  black 
  mantilla 
  over 
  head 
  

   and 
  shoulders, 
  who 
  slip 
  like 
  shadows 
  

   through 
  the 
  early 
  morning 
  light. 
  

  

  Bread 
  women 
  call 
  at 
  doors, 
  leaving 
  the 
  

   large 
  rolls, 
  or 
  panecillos, 
  which, 
  with 
  a 
  

   generous 
  bowl 
  of 
  coffee 
  and 
  hot 
  milk 
  

   (half-and-half), 
  form 
  the 
  usual 
  menu 
  

   for 
  the 
  day's 
  first 
  repast 
  of 
  rich 
  and 
  poor 
  

   alike. 
  The 
  servant 
  girls, 
  also 
  with 
  alpar- 
  

   gatas 
  on 
  their 
  feet 
  and 
  black 
  shawls 
  over 
  

   their 
  heads, 
  appear, 
  basket 
  on 
  arm, 
  on 
  their 
  

   way 
  to 
  market 
  for 
  the 
  day's 
  purchases. 
  

  

  Movement 
  commences 
  along 
  the 
  water- 
  

   front, 
  where 
  the 
  rattle 
  of 
  donkey-engine 
  

   is 
  heard, 
  the 
  clanking 
  of 
  large 
  chains, 
  and 
  

   the 
  hoarse 
  cries 
  of 
  the 
  second 
  mates 
  start- 
  

   ing 
  their 
  gangs 
  at 
  the 
  day's 
  work 
  of 
  

   cargo-handling. 
  

  

  THE 
  "angueEro" 
  burns 
  the 
  midnight 
  

   •• 
  oie 
  

  

  All 
  that 
  takes 
  place 
  at 
  any 
  of 
  the 
  Span- 
  

   ish 
  cities 
  on 
  the 
  "Mar 
  Cantabrico," 
  as 
  the 
  

   Bay 
  of 
  Biscay 
  is 
  called 
  in 
  the 
  mother 
  

   tongue. 
  But 
  at 
  Bilbao 
  there 
  are 
  two 
  in- 
  

   cidents 
  that 
  occur 
  in 
  the 
  early 
  morning 
  

   which, 
  as 
  far 
  as 
  I 
  have 
  been 
  able 
  to 
  as- 
  

   certain, 
  are 
  unique 
  to 
  this, 
  the 
  largest 
  of 
  

   the 
  Basque 
  cities 
  of 
  Spain. 
  

  

  Number 
  one. 
  The 
  oil 
  lamps 
  of 
  the 
  

   anguleros 
  are 
  extinguished. 
  Now, 
  angu- 
  

   leros 
  are 
  fishermen 
  who 
  since 
  midnight 
  

   have 
  been 
  engaged 
  in 
  a 
  peculiar 
  branch 
  

   of 
  the 
  fisherman's 
  art. 
  They 
  have 
  been 
  

   catching 
  angidas, 
  and 
  angulas, 
  in 
  turn, 
  

   are 
  a 
  very 
  peculiar 
  brand 
  of 
  fish 
  — 
  little 
  

   white, 
  almost 
  transparent 
  worms 
  (perhaps 
  

   it 
  would 
  sound 
  better 
  to 
  call 
  them 
  minia- 
  

   ture 
  eels), 
  only 
  two 
  inches 
  long. 
  When 
  

   a 
  batch 
  of 
  them 
  is 
  fried, 
  however, 
  in 
  olive 
  

   oil 
  and 
  served 
  in 
  an 
  earthenware 
  dish, 
  

   with 
  the 
  oil 
  still 
  popping 
  when 
  brought 
  

   to 
  the 
  table, 
  most 
  connoisseurs 
  will 
  agree 
  

   that 
  there 
  is 
  method 
  in 
  the 
  anguleros' 
  

   apparent 
  madness. 
  

  

  This 
  delicacy 
  inhabits 
  the 
  river 
  Ner- 
  

   vion 
  and 
  is 
  caught 
  along 
  the 
  stone 
  walls 
  

   of 
  the 
  quays, 
  being 
  attracted 
  into 
  nets 
  by 
  

   the 
  fishermen's 
  oil 
  lamps. 
  This 
  helpless 
  

   little 
  morsel 
  of 
  seafood 
  labors 
  under 
  the 
  

   scientist's 
  formidable 
  appellation 
  of 
  Marcc- 
  

   nidcc. 
  

  

  Number 
  two. 
  The 
  shrieks 
  of 
  bare- 
  

   footed, 
  illy-clothed 
  women 
  stevedores 
  are 
  

   heard. 
  

  

  