Elvas--Extraordinary Longevity--The English Nation--Portuguese
Ingratitude--Illiberality--Fortifications--Spanish Beggar--Badajoz-
-The Custom House.

Arrived at the gate of Elvas, an officer came out of a kind of
guard house, and, having asked me some questions, despatched a
soldier with me to the police office, that my passport might be
viseed, as upon the frontier they are much more particular with
respect to passports than in other parts. This matter having been
settled, I entered an hostelry near the same gate, which had been
recommended to me by my host at Vendas Novas, and which was kept by
a person of the name of Joze Rosado. It was the best in the town,
though, for convenience and accommodation, inferior to a hedge
alehouse in England. The cold still pursued me, and I was glad to
take refuge in an inner kitchen, which, when the door was not open,
was only lighted by a fire burning somewhat dimly on the hearth.
An elderly female sat beside it in her chair, telling her beads:
there was something singular and extraordinary in her look, as well
as I could discern by the imperfect light of the apartment. I put
a few unimportant questions to her, to which she replied, but
seemed to be afflicted to a slight degree with deafness. Her hair
was becoming grey, and I said that I believed she was older than
myself, but that I was confident she had less snow on her head.

"How old may you be, cavalier?" said she, giving me that title
which in Spain is generally used when an extraordinary degree of
respect is wished to be exhibited. I answered that I was near
thirty. "Then," said she, "you were right in supposing that I am