Classes On Portugal / Lisang na Portugal

Ruins of the only door that remains from the ancient city of Malacca -- Engraving by Coelho Junior       It dawned a fair morning of January. The Aurea Chersoneso ["Golden Peninsula", the ancient Latin name for the Gulf of Malacca], glittered with the first rays of the sun, seemed to salute with joy the Portuguese maritime flag, that quacked on the top of our vessel, as if remembering still the awestriking deeds of our sixteenth century grandparents. On the contrary, melancholia leaned down on the visages of all the crewmen, regarding the English flag, that unpinned on the walls of Malacca.       Approaving on the anchorage, we casted iron facing the city, and some of the officers and passengers transport themselves right-away onto land.       The port of Malacca on January of the year of our Lord of 1852 it gave not the slightest idea o' that old commercial emporium from other eras; not even it seemed a modern English colony: on its ber...

THE ENCHANTED MULE. T HERE  was once a very merry, but very poor hostler in Salamanca. He was so poor that he had to go about his business in rags; and one day when he was attending on the richly caparisoned mule belonging to the Archbishop of Toledo, he gave vent to his feelings in words. “Ah,” said he, “my father was always called a donkey from the day of his marriage; but would to goodness I were the archbishop’s mule! Look at the rich livery he bears; look at his stout sides; see how he drinks up his wine and eats his maize bread! Oh, it would be a merry life, indeed! My father was, they say, an ass, so I would be a mule!” And then he leant against the manger, and laughed so heartily that the archbishop’s mule stopped eating to look at him. “What ho!” said the mule. “Remember that  my reverend master, being a corpulent man, is somewhat heavy; but if thou wilt change conditions with me, thou need but take hold of both my ears, and,  caramba , a mule thou shalt be, and ...

ELVIRA, THE SAINTED PRINCESS. W AMBA  was king of the Goths, who inhabited the northern part of Lusitania. He was one of the bravest kings that ever reigned, and the walls of his palace still stand as evidence of the skill with which he studied to improve his capital. But although he was wise, he was not a good man, and his bravery in war was not tempered by mercy. Like all his predecessors, he was cruel to his victims, and was more feared than loved. Wamba had but one daughter, Elvira, whose mother was a princess of the Moorish family reigning in Andalusia.[1] She was so beautiful and so good, that she contributed in no small degree in rendering her father’s reign famous. Her long hair was of a lovely glossy black; her eyes, of the same dark hue, had all the softness of her race, and it was this very tenderness of look that gave majesty to her appearance. In those days there were but very few  Christians in Europe. The Crescent of the false prophet had overcome for a time the...

GOOD ST. JAMES, AND THE MERRY BARBER OF COMPOSTELLA. J UST  close to the cathedral of Compostella lived a barber whose real name was Pedro Moreno, but who was better known by that of El Macho, “the mule,” because he was so stubborn that if he happened to be playing the guitar, he would not leave off though a dozen customers were waiting to be shaved. But in Spain a barber also applies leeches, draws teeth, and extracts corns, so that it was very annoying for a man who was suffering from tooth-ache, and wanted his tooth taken out or stopped, to have to wait until the barber had finished playing on the guitar. He was also a soothsayer, and could repeat the whole of the prophetical  Buena Dicha  by heart. He was, in fact, the most useful man in Compostella, and had cultivated the art of shaving the face and head from the commencement  which consists in watching the flies when standing close to the master who is showing off his skill on a customer, to being able to play ...