Oh, the joy of the morning's dawn and delicious freshness of the mountain air, as we turned out at five o'clock for yet another ten-league spell to our next destination. Two nights later we slept in the gilded luxury of Madrid! But how we abused our previous neglect in not having brought a camp-outfit.
The above, however, presents the gloomier side of the picture, and there is a reverse, even in _posadas_. We cannot better describe the latter side than in our own words from _Wild Spain_:--
The wayfarer has been travelling all day across the scrub-clad wastes, fragrant with rosemary and wild thyme, without perhaps seeing a human being beyond a stray shepherd or a band of nomad gypsies encamped amidst the green palmettos. Towards night he reaches some small village where he seeks the rude _posada_. He sees his horse provided with a good feed of barley and as much broken straw as he can eat. He is himself regaled with one dish--probably the _olla_ or a _guiso_ (stew) of kid, either of them, as a rule, of a rich red-brick hue, from the colour of the red pepper or capsicum in the _chorizo_ or sausage, which is an important (and potent) component of most Spanish dishes. The steaming _olla_ will presently be set on a table before the large wood-fire, and with the best of crisp white bread and wine, the traveller enjoys his meal in company with any other guest that may have arrived at the time--be he muleteer or hidalgo. What a fund of information may be picked up during that promiscuous supper! There will be the housewife, the barber, and the padre of the village, perhaps a goatherd come down from the mountains, a muleteer, and a charcoal-burner or two, each ready to tell his own tale, or to enter into friendly discussion with the "Ingles." Then, as you light your _breva_, a note or two struck on the guitar falls on ears predisposed to be pleased.
How well one knows those first few opening notes: no occasion to ask that it may go on: it will all come in time, and one knows there is a merry evening in prospect. One by one the villagers drop in, and an ever-widening circle is formed around the open hearth, rows of children collect, even the dogs draw around to look on. The player and the company gradually warm up till couplet after couplet of pathetic _malagueñas_ follow in quick succession. These songs are generally topical, and almost always extempore; and as most Spaniards can--or rather are anxious to--sing, one enjoys many verses that are very prettily as well as wittily conceived.