and we heard her no more. In Cprdova there was as brief a peal of music
from a house which we passed, and in Algeciras we heard one short sweet
strain from a girl whom we could not see behind her lattice. Besides
these chance notes we heard no other by any chance. But this is by no
means saying that there is not abundant song in Spain, only it was kept
quiet; I suppose that if we had been there in the spring instead of the
fall we should at least have heard the birds singing. In Madrid there
were not even many street cries; a few in the Puerta del Sol, yes; but
the peasants who drove their mule-teams through the streets scarcely
lifted their voices in reproach or invitation; they could trust the wise
donkeys that led them to get them safely through the difficult places.
There was no audible quarreling among the cabmen, and when you called a
cab it was useless to cry "Heigh!" or shake your umbrella; you made play
with your thumb and finger in the air and sibilantly whispered;
otherwise the cabman ignored you and went on reading his newspaper. The
cabmen of Madrid are great readers, much greater, I am sorry to say,
than I was, for whenever I bought a Spanish paper I found it extremely
well written. Now and then I expressed my political preferences in
buying _El Liberal_ which I thought very able; even _El Imparcial_ I
thought able, though it is less radical than _El Liberal,_ a paper which
is published simultaneously in Madrid, with local editions in several
provincial cities.

For all the street silence there seemed to be a great deal of noise,
which I suppose came from the click of boots on the sidewalks and of
hoofs in roadways and the grind and squeal of the trams, with the harsh
smiting of the unrubbered tires of the closed cabs on the rough granite
blocks of the streets. But there are asphalted streets in Madrid where
the sound of the hoofs and wheels is subdued, and the streets rough and
smooth are kept of a cleanliness which would put the streets of New York