In short, she is neither beautiful, nor noble, nor rich; yet her
company seems instantly to smooth the road and lighten the toils of
travel to her swain. He helps himself, unasked, out of her basket, and
urges her to partake of the stores of his leathern wallet--hard goat's
cheese--and the crumbling loaf of _broa_, or maize bread. Soon in deep
and sweet conference, in their crabbed, but expressive tongue, he
forgets to make occasional use of his goad, and thus keeping pace with
the loitering bullocks, they go leisurely along. Let them pass on, and
wait for better game.
Turn and look at this cavalcade toiling up toward you. A sudden bend
in the road has brought it into view, and its aspect, half native,
half foreign--its mixed civil and military character--attract
attention. Two mounted orderlies, in a British uniform, lead the way,
and are followed by a clumsy Lisbon coach, every part of it well laden
with luggage. It is drawn by four noble mules, such as are seldom seen
out of the peninsula, deserving more stylish postillions than those
who, in ragged jackets, greasy leathern breeches and huge jack boots,
are urging them on. Two men sit at ease on the coach box.
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