ful look. There is no such thing as a door in front of the shop or workroom: the whole breadth of the house is open, and one may see all that passes in the interior. Half-way out into the path the tailors are sewing, and the cobblers are pulling and rapping: indeed, the work-stalls make a part of the street. In the evening, when the lights are burning, the appearance is most lively.
The squares are very full on market-days. There are fruit and vegetables without number, and garlic and onions to the heart's desire. Then again, throughout the day there is a ceaseless screaming, bantering, singing, squalling, huzzaing, and laughing. The mildness of the air and the cheapness of the food make subsistence easy. Everything possible is done in the open air.
At night, singing and all sorts of noises begin. The ballad of "Marlbrook" is heard in every street; then comes a dulcimer, then a violin. They try to imitate all the birds with a pipe. The strangest sounds are heard on every side. A mild climate can give this exquisite enjoyment of mere existence, even to poverty; and the very shadow of the people seems venerable.
The want of cleanliness and convenience which so much strikes us in the houses, arises from the following cause: the inhabitants are always out-of-doors, and in their light-heartedness think of nothing. With the people all goes right. Even the middle-class man just lives on from day to day; while the rich and genteel shut themselves up in their dwellings, which are not so habitable as in the north. Society is found in the open streets. Fore-courts and colonnades are all soiled with filth, for things are done in the most natural manner. The people always feel their way before them. The rich man may be rich, and build his palaces, and the nobile may rule; but, if he makes a colonnade or a fore-court, the people will make use of it for their own occasions, and have no more urgent wish
