are not rich can still welcome their friends as often as they like
without any of the terrific preparations for the entertainment which
make it a burden and a bore, and without a rueful glance at the weekly
bill afterwards. Occasionally, chocolate is handed round, and any amount
of tumblers of cold water. The chocolate is served in small coffee-cups,
and is of the consistency of oatmeal porridge; but it is delicious all
the same, very light and well frothed up. It is "eaten" by dipping
little finger-rusks or sponge-chips into the mixture, and you are
extremely glad of the glass of cold water after it. This is, however,
rather an exception; lemonade, _azucarillas_ and water, or tea served in
a separate room about twelve o'clock, is more usual. The _azucarilla_ is
a confection not unlike "Edinburgh rock," but more porous and of the
nature of a meringue. You stir the water with it, when it instantly
dissolves, flavouring the water with vanilla, lemon, or orange, as well
as sugar. Sometimes you are offered meringues, which you eat first, and
then drink the water.

I have a very perfect recollection of my first _tertulia_ in Madrid,
when I was a very young girl. We had been asked to go quite early, as we
were the strangers of the evening. Between seventy and eighty guests
dropped in, the ladies chiefly in morning dress, as we understand the
word. A Spanish lady never rises to receive a gentleman; but when any
ladies entered the large drawing-room where we were all seated, every
one rose and stood while the new arrivals made the circuit of the room,
shaking hands with their friends or kissing them on both cheeks, and
giving a somewhat undignified little nod to those whom they did not
know. The first time every one rose I thought we were going to sing a
hymn, or take part in some ceremony; but as it had to be repeated each
time a lady entered the room, I began to wish they would all come at
once. As soon as the dancing began, however, this ceremony was