Classes On Portugal / Lisang na Portugal

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 ...

THE SEVEN PIGEONS. O N  a deserted part of the rock-bound Cantabrian coast, a poor fisherman, named Pedro, discovered a lovely maiden, magnificently dressed, combing her long jet-black hair with a golden comb studded with diamonds. It was still early morning, and the sun had not attained its greatest power; and as the tide was at its lowest, an innumerable number of ponds were formed by the rocks which, for a distance of half a mile, were left bare by the receding sea. Seated near to one of these ponds, and cooling her feet in the water, sat this lovely maiden; and she was so intent on performing her toilet that she did not perceive Pedro, who, thinking she was a mermaid, and might therefore cast a spell over him, hid behind a ledge of rocks, and was able to see and hear her without being seen. Pedro heard her singing the following words— “I am daughter of a king Who rules in Aragon, My messengers they bring Me food to live upon. My father thinks me dead; My death he did ordain, Fo...