but remain habitable for numbers immensely beyond those of the
households. In the summer the family inhabits the first floor which the
_patio_ and the subterranean damp from the rains keep cool; in the
winter it retreats to the upper chambers which the sun is supposed to
warm, and which are at any rate dry even on cloudy days. The rents would
be thought low in New York: three dollars a month get a fair house in
Toledo; but wages are low, too; three dollars a month for a manservant
and a dollar and a half for a maid. If the Toledans from high to low are
extravagant in anything it is dress, but dress for the outside, not the
inside, which does not show, as our guide satirically explained. They
scrimp themselves in food and they pay the penalty in lessened vitality;
there is not so much fever as one might think; but there is a great deal
of consumption; and as we could not help seeing everywhere in the
streets there were many blind, who seemed oftenest to have suffered
from smallpox. The beggars were not so well dressed as the other
classes, but I saw no such delirious patchwork as at Burgos. On the
other hand, there were no idle people who were fashionably dressed; no
men or women who looked great-world.

Perhaps if the afternoon had kept the sunny promise of the forenoon they
might have been driving in the Paseo, a promenade which Toledo has like
every Spanish city; but it rained and we did not stop at the Paseo which
looked so pleasant.

The city, as so many have told and as I hope the reader will imagine, is
a network of winding and crooked lanes, which the books say are Moorish,
but which are medieval like those of every old city. They nowhere lend
themselves to walking for pleasure, and the houses do not open their
_patios_ to the passer with Andalusian expansiveness; they are in fact
of a quite Oriental reserve. I remember no dwellings of the grade,