298 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



Photograph by Herbert Corey 

 THE) OhD ROPS-WALK ; PUIGCERDA, SPAIN 



greenery. A girl dressed in the fete-day 

 costume of the hills — a white bodice cut 

 modestly low, operatically short skirts, 

 and low shoes — ran to meet the discon- 

 tented little violiniste who had frowned 

 on us and on her peasant mother from 

 her place in the crowded cart. The vio- 

 liniste was dressed in the cheap finery of 

 Barcelona, with high-heeled shoes of 

 poor leather, badly scuffed and run over 

 at the heels, while around her neck she 

 had wound a boa that had been built of 

 chicken hackle. The sister was charm- 

 ing, but the feminine in her led her to 

 admire the awful tawdriness of the vio- 

 liniste. 



"Thou art in grand tcnue," I heard 

 her say. 



There was time to see that the public 

 square was filled with men putting im- 

 patient feet against the ribs of rebellious 

 mules in the effort to pull tighter the 

 ropes of the diamond hitch. Toads were 

 going across the hills, fete day or no. 

 Other tired men straggled in at the heels 

 of tired mules, the pack-saddles empty, 

 after a successful trip into France. 

 Small boys were importantly aiding. 



Girls clung to the arms of the contra- 

 bandista, and old women waddled about 

 with parcels that looked like provisions 

 for the departing. Then came the call 

 to breakfast, and the smugglers were 

 forgotten. 



There were tiny trout served at this 

 one peseta breakfast, and toasted bread 

 and doubtful coffee ; but the undoubted 

 piece de resistance of the table was an 

 automatic fly-swatter that ran by clock- 

 work, and which at least made the 

 swarming flies respectful. Wine was 

 served in the two-spouted bottles from 

 which one pours the fluid at a distance 

 into a thirsty mouth, and which are such 

 a snare to the unaccustomed wayfarer. 

 The old woman who was mistress of 

 ceremonies hunted about behind the 

 counter of the tiny store which was an 

 adjunct to the inn and found a fly- 

 specked letter-head. 



"Thou shalt have this," said she. "It 

 will serve to save us from forgetfulness." 



All the way to Andorra I had cher- 

 ished a secret hope that I might be per- 

 mitted to accompany the smugglers on 

 one of their illicit trips ; but when I 



