Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1874-01-16
The Lire of a spanish Peasant.

lll-ied, lll-houSed, lll-clotned, llftaugnt,
or rather untaught and uncared for; a
hopeless, objectless being, feeling no re.
sponsibility for the present or the future.
Such is the peasant of the interior, be
he farm laborer, blacksmith, fruit-seller,
water-carrier, gypsy horse-dealer, or
what he may. He seems to be unable
to read, or write, or think, or love, or
hope, or pray, or plan. With him there
is no light. Into darkness, social,
moral, religious and intellectual, he is
born as his heritage; in that darkness
he spends, and in that darkness he is
content to end his days. Come with me
for stroll--although unarmed, a stroll
is by no means a secure pleasure-into
the campo or wild country, and visit the
hut of friend Of mine, poor fruit
seller, and we will pass few hours Of
one day with him. His little shanty
stands alone near his dry, half-tilled
garden; and you look in vain for smil-
ing village, or substantial farm or
country house. His hut--let us call
it shanty = stands alone amid the
thistles, its poverty its best protection.
1t is formed of three walls of rude, un-
fashioned, unhewn stone. bound together
with no mortar. You must stoop low to
enter it; it is rooted with reeds from
the Guadalquivir or with brushwood
from the neighboring bosque (ceppice.) J
There is one rough settle in the dark
rotm, and on it lie the two mantas,
the use of which l explained in former
letter. The floor is the earth and dust
Here is the mistress, a knife stuck in her
pirdle. You must not look for beauty
or tidiness in her wooden, mahogany
coIored face, and you wonder at her
stride, like a mans, muscled arms and
rough voice. Yet. femenher, she has to
work very hard, and the Spanish cid
woman (madre) of the lower class is
always a masculine-looking hag. She
has no chair, but courteously apologies
for its absence, and throws down
" manta" on the floor for you TO SIT on
Suddenly you hear at your ears the
cackling hens, the Growing OF COCK; she
sees, with ready Spanish PERCEPTION
that you are puzzled, and pushes. aside,
not the bed linen, but the brushwoodi,
and there, under the settle, is the "roost
full of poultry. There. too, is her little
lara Of water, aqua clara, and the pro-
visions for the scanty comia" 1--WE drop
the d in "comida" in the interior)- 1.-THE
fiat cake of coarse bread, and the
melon, or the white grapes. She
will tell you, with a woman's tact
Though L is not, perhaps strictly
true, "We are all in the rsugh, Tor
the winter rains are coming, and then
we 20 to take house lshe means a
quarter of room in the town. The
little vineyard, or melon, or vegetable
ground of this man is close to his house.
and daily he takes bic produce to the
plaza market square) of che adjoining
towns. Just now he is taking his sissta
rolled in his manta in his room, too IN
doIent to move. AZ sundown he trots
behind his donkey, with bis pannlered
sides well CALLED with melohes or
grapes; and we viii follow him along
the dusty track-We boast no roads,
with his baggy canvas trGleers, esparto-
grass sandals, and huge knife st9ek IN
his faja. About ten o'clock he arrived
in the street, which, RAINING out OF the
market. serves for stables for the beasts
and bedroom for the owners OF thsse
panniers of fruit. Ee loosens bis pan
nier from his donkey back. aud lets the
air get to the inside of the packet OF
fruit; then tethers his donkey to the side
of the street rolls himself up in his
manta, lights his cigarlllo and falls tsst
asleep by his frait. It is a strange sight
to pass about midnight along these
streets adjoining the fruit market-the
rows of donkeys, the hundreds et sleep
ing foro1s. undistinguishable from TIE
fruit and sackisg, the fresh, slckly camp
smell of fruit hanging heavy on the arr
and Just beyond the plaza, with
its every tent now lying on
the gro9ad covering the fruit sad
tiny oil lamp burning family to show
where the stall and the keeper and the
fruit are, all lying under the rough tent
like lot of haltempty sacks. 4t halt
past three the market opens, and at four
to FIVE it is, in truth, a lively sight, from
every house in the town comes a repre-
sentative. and from every ri0h house a
criada. her basket on her arm, 70 buy
fruit. bread and game (for there is little
bsaf or mutton Killed in the summer
monlhs) for the days consumption. Ike
little tents of the fruit venders are
the most primitive and varied shapes,
dirty canvas stuck In fantastic shapes
upon one or more sticks underneath
their shade lie the heaps of glowing
fruit the red hame-eolOred tomato, the
red and yellow pomegranatei the parple
fig. the yellow or dark green melon, the
plum, the apple, and the grape, all IN
profuse abundance, Bll sold II the uni
form rate Of five farthings the pound,
Sunday, which brings rest to the tired
millioas Ia our own land. brings none 70
these. True the bells are olashing and
changing al the day, but save few