The Vermont transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1864-1870, 1868-02-28
The Chicken Inn.

A rough ragged porter made charge
upon my valise, which / yielded 10 his
hands. "Take it to the best hotel" j
said. "Ah that is the Chickenpp he re-
piled. Now, the driver of the omnibus
from Montserrat had recommended the
San Domingo, which had altogether a
better sound than the Chicken but
there was no use to think of resisting
my fate. / was conscious a of wonder
full moonlight picture-of a town on a
height, crowned by grand cathedral
ola winding riveribelow; Ofsteep slopes,
of glimmering houses; of lofty hills,
scanned with the shadows of glenS; and
of the sparkle of orange leaves in the
hanging gardens. This while we were
crossing suspension bridge; at the end,
we plunged into narrow winding streets,
full of gloom and disagreea3le odOrs.
A few oil lamps burned far apart; there
were lights in the upper windows Of the
houses, and the people Were still gossip
ing with their neighbOrs. When we
emerged into plaza, it was more cheer
full; the single cafe was crowded. the
est0RcO for the sale Of tobacco, and the
BARRIERS shop was still open. A little
farther and we reached the Chicken,
which was an ancient and unenvit.ng
hOu-e, with a stable on the ground floor.
Here the porter took his fee with grin,
and saying, you Will want me in the
mOrningw wished me good night.
L mounted TO dining-roOm nearly fif-
ty feet in length, in which lonely gen.
tleman sat, waiting for his supper.
When the hostess had conducted me to
a bedroom of equal dimensions, and pro-
ceeded to put clean sheets upon a bed
4, for foI,
/ became entirely recOnciled to my fate.
Af-er trying i'll vain TO extract any in
telligence from a Madrid newspaper, |
went to bed and slept soundly.
My porter of the night before made
his appearance, Id as 1 had suspected
him of interested motives in conducting
me to the Chicken, | tested his charac-
ter by giving him a smaller fee for an
equal service; but he took it with the
same thanks. Moreover, the diligence
office was in the San Domingo Hotel,
and | satisfied myself that the Chicken
was really better than the Saint. Two
numbering yellow coaches stood in the
spacious stable, which was at the same
time entrance-hall and laundry. On
one side some lean mules were eating
their barley; on another a pump and
stone trough supplied the house with
water: a stone staircase led to the inhab-
tied rooms, and three women were wash
ing clothes at a tank in the rear. Dogs
ran about scratching Themselves; cOun-
try passengers, with boxes and baskets,
sat upon stone posts and did the same;
and now and then a restless horse
walked forth from the stalls, snutfing at
one person after another as if hoping to
find one who might be eatable. Two
n1dyOrGis or coachmen, followed by two
groOms, hustled about with bits of har-
ness in their hands, and the washer
women made a great clatter with their
wooden beetles; but the time passed and
nothing seemed to be accomplished on
either side. The whole scene was so
thoroughly Spanish that no one would
have been surprised TO had the Don and
Sancho ridden into the doorway. One
Of the women at the tank was certainly
Maritornes.-B0yard Taylor in atlantic
Monthly.