other large ones, such as leading a harnessed horse to Mr. So-and-so who was to arrive on such and such a day to accompany Mr. Etcetera's wife, and other missions of like nature. Whenever Tiburcia, the collector's black cook, went on a holiday rest to the city, Biriba was detailed to take her.
It was so I met him, protecting the Amazon. On the way to Itaóca, half way there, I met a man mounted on the most dilapidated mare that ever I saw; behind him he carried mail bags and several smaller bags, besides a new broom stuck into the harness with the straw part up. He had stopped in a stupid attitude, holding by the bridle a little horse carrying a side-saddle. I approached him asking for a light. Having lit the cigarette, I inquired who was riding the other horse.
"I am accompanying Dona Engracia who is mid-wife in Itaóca; she dismounted for a moment and . . . ."
I heard a rustle behind me: out of the woods came a large ruddy woman, her skirts stiffly starched and on her head a little cap of the time of His Most Faithful Majesty. … Not to embarrass her I went on my way, but not without looking out of the corners of my eyes to enjoy the postman's difficulty in placing on the little horse the mid-wife's generous avoirdupois.
And the scoldings. …
"Mr. Biriba, it wasn't number 40 thread I ordered. You are stupid!”
When the material was not right:
