. The land of the Dons. s with conscious these gentlemen privateers are hard to catch,and slippery when caught. Mamma knows themwell. The greater part are mere giiasones, sailingunder false colours; students, perhaps, dependenton their families, and with neither the inclinationnor the means to marry. But a whispered cosato a pretty girl costs them nothing, and is agree-able to both bestower and recipient. It blesseshim that gives and him that takes, and flattersthe masculine as well as the feminine , then, is fully on her guard against thesetreacherous craft. Their suit
. The land of the Dons. s with conscious these gentlemen privateers are hard to catch,and slippery when caught. Mamma knows themwell. The greater part are mere giiasones, sailingunder false colours; students, perhaps, dependenton their families, and with neither the inclinationnor the means to marry. But a whispered cosato a pretty girl costs them nothing, and is agree-able to both bestower and recipient. It blesseshim that gives and him that takes, and flattersthe masculine as well as the feminine , then, is fully on her guard against thesetreacherous craft. Their suit of clothes looks spickand span, but is it their only one ? Perhaps, like OliverGoldsmith, who wrote like an angel and talked likepoor Poll, but who felt the necessity of certain articlesof attire as poignantly as any of us humans, theirstock of linen is limited to a single shirt, andwhen that is washing they stay indoors. Theirallowance at best is unlikely to exceed twentydollars a month for washing, board, and bed; in. (To face p. 42.) (Fro7n a pliotocraph by the Author.)MADRID: THE FLOWER - SELLER. A BOURGEOIS FAMILY. 43 which case, if they are quick-witted and unscru-pulous, they help to maintain themselves by sablazos,or sponging upon their wealthier acquaintances,and are certain to be in arrears with the patronaof their boarding house. Mamma knows this as well as I do. But letus suppose, for a caprice, that on this very after-noon a young cavalier of decent prospects andposition — call him Don Alvaro—is durably smittenby the soft, dark eyes and graceful carriage of ourJulia, whispers flares to her more than once, andfollows patiently in her wake. Julia, too, despiteher downcast gaze, has seen Don Alvaro and is notdispleased. Of course the frigate has taken in thesituation, and falls off slightly. She sniffs a prize,and manoeuvres—as only a Spanish mamma knowshow to manoeuvre. Not a word is uttered, except, at discreetintervals, the whispered compliments of the gentl
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