Cathedral, one week from that day, but as that was impossible, she seemed reconciled when she found her hand filled with small coins, and bidding me a grateful farewell, she went on her way singing her song of the "costumbres".
Com-pra usted ji - to-ma te, chi-cha-ros, e-jo - te, cal - a - ba - ci - ta?
Won't you buy tomatoes, peas, beans, pumpkins?
These gritos are rather more melodious than those to which our ears are accustomed, such as, "Ole rags 'n' bot-tuls!"
The melodramatic tones of the newsboys at night, when many of the most popular papers are sold, had a more foreign sound than any that came to my ear. The boy who sold El Monitor Republicano rolled it round and round his tongue until finally it died away like the hum of an ancient spinning-wheel.
Another boy, with an aptitude for languages, sings out, "Los Dos Republicos" (The Two Republics"), translating as he goes along, "Periodico Americano;" while another, not to be outdone, yells out exultantly, "El Tiempo de la mañana" ("The Times for to-morrow"). Only the word mañana was distinctly articulated, which gave emphasis to his vocation, as the Times is printed in the evening and sold for the next day.
An amusing admixture of sounds was wafted to my room one night in the following manner. Two boys were calling at the highest pitch. One was selling cooked chestnuts, and the other the Times.
They managed to transpose the adjectives describing their respective wares. "Castañas asadas" ('Cooked chestnuts"), shouted one. "El Tiempo de mañana, con noticias importantes" ("To-morrow's Times with important notices"), screamed the other. They were quite near together by this time, one on the sidewalk, and the other in the street; and when the air was again made vocal, a spirit of mischief had crept into the medley of sounds. The paper boy led off with
