The Argosy — page 228: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Cruise of the Reserve Squadron. 211 selves within the walls of the Fonda Suiza. To have our modest wants in any degree attended to was another matter. It 1s often diffi- cult to be served in an hotel in Spain; but to-day the landlord and waiters of the inn were beside themselves. Table d’hote was nearly over in the long dining-room ; and some of the Officers of the Fleet, less on buildings than on pleasure bent, were doing justice to an excellent repast. For ourselves, we went into a small side-room, and there, by dint of occasionally shaking up the waiters, now bribing the bustling little host with entreaties, and now threatening to bombard him with the Fleet, we finally found ourselves—not exactly in clover, but, like Ruth, gleaning ; though not in cornfields. Even our gleanings would have been meagre enough— a sort of Barmecide’s feast—but for our Mentor, who came down upon them with the lightning shafts of their own language, and gave them no peace until they would listen to reason. Altogether it was a little insight into Spanish life, manners and character, amusing and instructive. I should like some day again to pay just such a flying visit, under similar circumstances to Santiago, the cathedral, and the Fonda Suiza. But how often in life-do our pleasant days and experiences repeat themselves P Tiffin over, and the landlord’s just claims discharged, we had still some time to spare, and sallied forth. As usual, the door was thronged with beggars, and getting clear of these, we found ourselves in the quiet streets of Santiago. There was not much to be seen here. ‘The shops, small and indifferent, were smothered by the arcades. We entered a typical one out of curiosity: a fan depot: and gazed at its marvels of art and cheapness. Again we wanted the Princess Scheharazade’s help in this delicate matter, but, alas, we had no slave of the lamp to produce her at our bidding. Pyramid selected one, gorgeous in gold and black, representing a harem of ladies with languishing eyes; chose it simply because one amongst these “lights” was the facsimile of the damsel who, at Arosa Bay (a more romantic name than Carril, and better suited to our theme) had thrown him the lily: emblem, we will devoutly hope, of the lady’s heart and intentions. Oxford and I, sighing in vain for lilies, had no such inducement for selection, and took quiet subjects, where little shepherdesses led pet lambs by a pink leash, and elderly dévotes knelt at a confessional, and yellow buttercups bloomed on amber satin. | We were much applauded for our taste on getting back to the Defence: for the officers were nearly all of simple habits and cul- tivated a rigid tone of morality and decorum. And when the pet lambs and shepherdesses, just for fun, were put up at a mock auction, they reached a figure that would have bought a dozen fans in Santiago. Pyramid’s, on the other hand, was voted voluptuous, and calculated to endanger the high standard of our minds. (I knew his motive for buying it, which put quite a different colouring on the affair, but ECOMICOOOKS. EO