husband (answered Teresa): after all, I wish to God this quality of my daughter may not be the cause of her perdition: take your own way, and make her duchess or princess, or what you please; but I'll assure you, it shall never be with my consent or good-will: I was always a lover of equality, my dear, and can't bear to see people hold their heads high without reason. Teresa was I christened, a bare and simple name, without the addition, garniture, and embroidery of Don or Donna; my father's name is Cascajo, and mine, as being your spouse, Teresa Panza, though by rights I should be called Teresa Cascajo: but as the king minds, the law binds: and with that name am I contented, though it be not burdened with a Don, which weighs so heavy, that I should not be able to bear it ; neither will I put it in the power of those who see me dressed like a countess or governor's lady, to say, Mind Mrs Porkfeeder, how proud she looks! it was but yesterday she toiled hard at the distaff, and went to mass with the tail of her gown about her head, instead of a veil ; but now, forsooth, she has got her fine farthingales and jewels, and holds up her head, as if we did not know her.' If God preserve me in my seven or five senses, or as many as they be, I shall never bring myself into such a quandary: as for your part, spouse, you may go to your governments and islands, and be as proud as a peacock; but as for my daughter and me, by the life of my father! we will not stir one step from the village; for the wife that deserves a good name, stays at home as if she were lame; and the maid must still be a-doing, that hopes to see the men come a-wooing. You and Don Quixote may therefore go to your ad ventures, and leave us to our misventures; for God will better our condition, if we deserve his mercy; though, truly, I cannot imagine who made him a Don; I am sure neither his father nor grandfather had any such title."-" I tell thee, wife (replied the 'squire), thou hast certainly got some devil in that carcass of thine: the Lord watch over thee, woman! what a deal of stuff hast thou been tacking together, with out either head or tail! What the devil has your Cascajos, jewels, proverbs, and pride, to do with what I have been saying? Hark ye, you ignorant beast; for such I may call thee, as thou hast neither capacity to understand my discourse, nor prudence to make sure of good fortune when it lies in thy way; were I to say that my daughter shall throw herself from the top of a steeple, or go strolling about the world like the Infanta Donna Uraca, thou wouldst have reason to contradict my pleasure: but if, in two turnings of a ball, and one twinkling of an eye, our good fortune should lay a title across our shoulders, and, raising thee from the

stubble, set thee in a chair of state, under a canopy, or lay thee upon a sofa, consisting of more velvet almohadas, than there are Moors in all the family of the Almohadas in Morocco; wherefore wouldst not thou consent, and with me enjoy the good luck that falls ?"" I'll tell thee wherefore, husband (replied Teresa), because, as the saying is, what covers, discovers thee: the eyes of people always run slightly over the poor, but make an halt to examine the rich; and, if a person so examined was once poor, then comes the grumbling and the slandering; and he is persecuted by backbiters who swarm in our streets like bees."

"Give ear, Teresa, and listen to what I am going to say (answered Sancho); for may hap thou hast never heard such a thing in all the days of thy life: and I do not now pretend to speak from my own reflection, but to repeat the remarks of the good father who preached last Lent in our village: he said, if I right remember, that all objects present to the view exist, and are impressed upon the imagination with much greater energy and force than those which we only remember to have seen. (The arguments here used by Sancho contributed also to make the translator believe this chapter apocryphal; because they seem to exceed the capacity of the 'squire, who proceeded thus): From whence it happens, that when we see any person magnificently dressed, and surrounded with the pomp of servants, we find ourselves invited, and, as it were, compelled to pay him respect; although the memory should, at that instant, represent to us some mean circumstances of his former life; because that defect, whether in point of family or fortune, is already past and removed, and we only regard what is present to our view: and if the person whom fortune hath thus raised from the lowness of oblivion to the height of prosperity, be well-bred, liberal, and courteous, without pretending to vie with the ancient nobility, you may take it for granted, Teresa, that nobody will remember what he was, but reverence what he now is, except the children of envy, from whom no thriving person is secure."-" I really do not understand you (said Teresa); you may do what you will; but seek not to distract my brain with your rhetoric and haranguing, for if you be revolved to do what you say- "You must call it resolved, woman, and not revolved," cried Sancho. "Never plague yourself to dispute with me, husband (answered Teresa); I speak as God pleases, and meddle not with other people's concerns. If you are obstinately bent upon this same government, I desire you will carry your son Sancho along with you, and from this hour teach him the art of that profession; for it is but reasonable that the sons should inherit and

learn the trade of their fathers."—" As soon as I have obtained my government (said Sancho), I will send thee money for him by the post, as by that time I shall have plenty; for there are always people in abundance that will lend to a governor who has no money of his own; and be sure you clothe him in such a manner as to disguise his present condition, and make him appear like what he is to be."- "Send you the money (answered Teresa), and I will dress him up like any branch of palm."*"Well then (said Sancho), we are agreed about making our daughter a countess- -"That day I behold her a countess (cried the wife), I shall reckon her dead and buried; but I tell you again, you may use your pleasure; for we women are born to be obedient to our husbands, though they are no better than blocks."

So saying, she began to weep as bitterly as if she had actually seen her daughter laid in her grave: Sancho consoled her, by saying, that although she must be a countess, he would defer her promotion as long as he could. Thus ended the conversation, and the 'squire went back to Don Quixote, to concert measures for their speedy departure.

CHAP. VI.

Of what passed between Don Quixote, his niece, and housekeeper, being one of the most important chapters of the whole history.

WHILE this impertinent conversation passed between Sancho Panza and his wife Teresa Cascajo, Don Quixote's niece and housekeeper were not idle; for, collecting from a thousand symptoms that their master wanted to give them the slip a third time, and return to the exercise of his unlucky knight-errantry, they endeavoured, by all possible means, to divert him from his extravagant design; but all they could say was like preaching to the desert, or hammering cold iron. However, among many other arguments, the housekeeper said to him, "As I hope to be saved, dear master, if your worship will not settle at home in your own house, but are resolved to stray about the mountains and valleys like a troubled ghost, in quest of what you term adventures, but what I call mischances, I will complain in person, and raise up my voice to God and the king, that they may apply some remedy to your disorder.” To this declaration the knight replied, "Mrs Housekeeper, how God will accept of thy complaints I know not; neither can I guess in what manner his majesty will answer thy petition: this only I know, that if I were king I would excuse myself from answering the infinite number of impertinent me

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morials which are daily presented; for one of the greatest of the many fatigues that attend royalty, is that of being obliged to listen and reply to all petitions; therefore, I would not have his majesty troubled with any affair of mine."-" Pray, sir (said the housekeeper), are there no knights at court?"-" Yes, there are many (answered Don Quixote); and it is reasonable that there should be always a good number in attendance to adorn the court, and support the pomp and magnificence of majesty."

Would it not be better, then, for your worship (replied the matron), to be one of that number, and serve your king and master quietly and safely at court?"-"You must know, good woman (said Don Quixote), all knights cannot be courtiers; neither can nor ought all courtiers to be knights-errant: there ought to be plenty of both; and though we are all knights, there is a great difference between the one sort and the other: your courtiers, without crossing the thresholds of their own apartments, travel over the world, in maps, gratis, and never know what it is to suffer either heat, cold, hunger, or thirst, in their journey; whereas, we real knights-errant measure the whole globe with our own footsteps, exposed night and day, on horseback and a-foot, to the summer's sun and winter's cold, and all the inclemencies of the weather: we not only seek to see the picture, but the person of our foe, and on all emergencies and occasions attack him, without paying any regard to the trifling rules of challenges; whether, for example, his sword or lance be shorter or longer than our own; whether he wears about him any relic or secret coat of mail; or whether the sun and wind be equally divided; with other ceremonies of that nature, which are usually observed in duelling, and which, though I know them punctually, thou art little acquainted with; thou must also know, that a good knight-errant, though he sees ten giants, whose heads not only touch, but overtop the clouds, with legs like lofty steeples, and arms resembling the masts of vast and warlike ships; while each eye, as large as a mill-wheel, beams and burns like a glass furnace, is by no means confounded or abashed; but, on the contrary, with genteel demeanour and intrepid heart, approaches, assaults, and, if possible, vanquishes and overthrows them in a twinkling, though they are armed with the shell of a certain fish, said to be harder than adamant; and instead of a sword, use a keen scimetar of damasked steel, or a huge club armed with a point of the same metal, as I have seen on a dozen different occasions. All this I have mentioned, good woman, that thou mayest see what difference there is between knights of different orders; and every prince ought, in reason, to pay greater respect to

this second, or rather this first species of knightserrant, among whom, as we read in history, there have been some who were the bulwarks not only of one, but of many kingdoms."

"Ah! dear sir (cried the niece), interrupting him, consider that all those stories of knightserrant are nothing but lies and invention; and every one of the books that contain them deserve, if not to be burnt, at least to wear a san benito,* or some other badge, by which it may be known for an infamous perverter of virtue and good sense."-" By the God that protects me! (cried the knight), wert thou not undoubtedly my niece, as being my own sister's child, I would chastise thee in such a manner, for the blasphemy thou hast uttered, that the whole world would resound with the example! How! shall a pert baggage, who has scarce capacity enough to manage a dozen lace-bobbins, dare to wag her tongue in censuring the histories of knights-errant? What would Signor Amadis say to such presumption? But surely he would forgive thy arrogance; for he was the most humble and courteous knight of his time, and, besides, the particular champion and protector of damsels but thou mightest have been heard by another who would not treat thee so gently; for all are not affable and well-bred: on the contrary, some there are extremely brutal and impolite. All those who call themselves knights are not entitled to that distinction; some being of pure gold, and others of baser metal, not withstanding the denomination they assume. But these last cannot stand the touchstone of truth: there are mean plebeians, who sweat and struggle to maintain the appearance of gentlemen; and, on the other hand, there are gentle men of rank who seem industrious to appear mean and degenerate the one sort raise them selves either by ambition or virtue, while the other abase themselves by viciousness or sloth; so that we must avail ourselves of our under standing and discernment in distinguishing those persons who, though they bear the same appellation, are yet so different in point of character." "Good God! (said the niece), that your worship should be so learned, that even, if need were, you might mount the pulpit, or go a-preaching in the streets, and yet remain in such woful blindness and palpable folly, as to persuade the world that you are a valiant and vigorous righter of wrongs, when you are old, feeble, and almost crippled with age; but, above all things, to give yourself out for a knight, when you are no such thing; for, though rich gentlemen may be knighted, poor gentlemen, like you, seldom are."

"There is a good deal of truth in what thou hast observed, cousin (replied Don Quixote); and I could tell thee such things concerning fa

milies as would raise_thine admiration; but these I suppress, that I may not seem to mix what's human with what's divine: take notice, however, my friends, and be attentive to what I am going to say: all the families in the world may be reduced to four kinds, which are these: one, that from low beginnings hath extended and dilated to a pitch of power and greatness; another, that from great beginnings hath continued to preserve and maintain its original importance; a third, that from vast beginnings hath ended in a point, diminishing and decaying from its foundation, into an inconsiderable point like that of a pyramid, which, in respect of its base, is next kin to nothing; a fourth, and that the most numerous, had neither a good foundation, nor reasonable superstructure, and therefore sinks into oblivion unobserved; such are the families of plebeians and ordinary people. The first, that from low beginnings hath mounted to power and greatness, which it preserves to this day, is exemplified in the house of Ottoman, that from an humble shepherd, who gave rise to it, attained that pinnacle of grandeur on which it now stands: the second sort of pedigree, that without augmentation hath preserved its original importance, is exhibited in the persons of many princes, who are such by inheritance, and support their rank without addition or diminution, containing themselves peaceably within the limits of their own dominions: of those who, from illustrious beginnings, have dwindled into a point, there are a thousand examples in the Pharaohs and Ptolemies of Egypt, the Cæsars of Rome, with all the tribe, if they may be so called, of our Median, Assyrian, Persian, Greek, and Barbarian princes, monarchs, and great men. All these families and states, together with their founders, have ended in a very inconsiderable point; since, at this day, it is impossible to trace out one of their descendants; or, if we could, he would be found in some base and low degree. I have nothing to say of the plebeians, who only serve to increase the number of the living, without deserving any other fame or panegyric. From what I have said I would have you infer, my precious wiseacres, that there is a great confusion of pedigrees; and that those only appear grand and illustrious whose representatives abound with virtue, liberality, and wealth; I say virtue, liberality, and wealth, because the vicious great man is no more than a great sinner; and the rich man, without liberality, a mere covetous beggar; for happiness does not consist in possessing but in spending riches; and that not in squandering them away, but in knowing how to use them with taste; now, a poor knight has no other way of signalizing his birth but the practice of virtue, being affable, well-bred, cour.

teous, kind, and obliging; a stranger to pride, arrogance, and slander; and, above all things, charitable; for, by giving two farthings cheerfully to the poor, he may shew himself as generous as he that dispenses alms by sound of bell: and whosoever sees him adorned with these virtues, although he should be an utter stranger to his race, will conclude that he is descended of a good family. Indeed, it would be a sort of miracle to find it otherwise, so that praise is always the reward of virtue, and never fails to attend the righteous. There are two paths, my children, that lead to wealth and honour: one is that of learning, the other that of arms: now I am better qualified for the last than for the first, and (as I judge from my inclination to arms), was born under the influence of the planet Mars; so that I am, as it were, obliged to choose that road, which I will pursue in spite of the whole universe; you will therefore fatigue yourself to no purpose, in attempting to persuade me from that which Heaven inspires, fortune ordains, reason demands, and, above all things, my own inclination dictates; knowing, as I do, the innumerable toils annexed to knight errantry, I am also well acquainted with the infinite benefits acquired in the exercise of that profession. I know the path of virtue is very strait, while the road of vice is broad and spacious; I know their end and issue is different: the wide extended way of vice conducts the traveller to death; while the narrow toilful path of virtue leads to happiness and life-not that which perisheth, but that which hath no end; and I know, as our great Castilian poet observes,

By these rough paths of toil and pain,
Th' immortal seats of bliss we gain,
Deny'd to those who heedless stray
In tempting pleasure's flow'ry way."

"Ah! wo is me! (cried the cousin), my uncle is a poet too! he knows every thing, and can do every thing: I'll lay a wager, if he should turn bricklayer, he could build a house like any cage.""I do assure thee, niece (replied Don Quixote), if those knightly sentiments did not wholly engross my attention, there is not a thing on earth that I could not make; nor a curiosity that should not go through my hands, especially bird-cages and tooth-picks."

Here the conversation was interrupted by a knocking at the gate, which, as they found upon inquiry, was made by Sancho; whose presence was no sooner intimated than the housekeeper ran away to hide herself, that she might avoid the sight of him whom she abhorred: the niece, therefore, opened the door, and his mas ter came out to receive him with open arms:

then shutting themselves up together, another dialogue passed, no ways inferior to the former.

CHAP. VII.

Of what passed between Don Quixote and his 'Squire; with other surprising incidents.

THE housekeeper seeing that her master and Sancho were locked up together, immediately guessed the subject of the conversation; and imagining that the result of this consultation would be a third sally, she put on her veil, and, full of trouble and anxiety, went in quest of the bachelor Sampson Carrasco, thinking, that as he was a well-spoken man, and her master's new friend, he might persuade him to lay aside such an extravagant design; accordingly, she found him taking a turn in his own yard, and fell upon her knees before him, in a cold sweat, occasioned by her vexation. Carrasco seeing her appear with such marks of sorrow and consternation, said, "What is the matter, Mrs Housekeeper? what hath befallen you? something seems to have harrowed up your very soul !""Nothing at all, dear Mr Sampson (cried the housekeeper), only my master is breaking outhe is certainly breaking out."-" How breaking out? (said Sampson), is any part of his body unsound?"-"Where should he break out (replied the other), but through the gate of his madness? My meaning, dear bachelor of my soul! is, that he is going to make another sally (and that will be the third), searching up and down the world for what he calls adventures, though I cannot imagine why they should have that name:* the first time, he returned so battered and bruised, that they were fain to lay him across an ass, like a sack of oats, because he could not sit upright: the second time, he was brought home in a waggon, stretched and cooped up in a cage, in which he imagined himself enchanted, in such a woful plight, that he could scarce be known by the mother that bore him, so lank and meagre, with his eyes sunk into the lowest pit of his brain; so that before I could bring him into any tolerable degree of strength, I expended more than six hundred new-laid eggs, as God and all the world know, as well as my hens, that will not suffer me to tell a lie.""That I verily believe (said the bachelor), your hens are so good, plump, and well-bred, that they would rather burst than say one thing and mean another: well then, Mrs House keeper, nothing else hath happened, neither have you met with any other misfortune, but the apprehension of what your master Don Quixote will do?"-" Nothing else," said she.

"Give yourself no trouble then (resumed the bachelor), but go home a-God's name, and get ready something hot for my breakfast; and in your way, repeat St Apollonia's prayer, if you can; I will follow, in a little time, and then you shall see wonders."-" Dear heart! (cried the housekeeper), St Apollonia's prayer, say you? that I should repeat if my master had the tooth-ache, but, lack-a-day! his distemper lies in his skull." "I know what I say (answered Sampson): take my advice, Mrs Housekeeper, and do not pretend to dispute with me; for I would have thee to know that I am a bachelor of Salamanca; there's no higher bacheloring than that." She accordingly moved homeward, while Samp son went to communicate to the curate that which will be in due time disclosed.

While Don Quixote and Sancho were closeted together, there passed between them a conversation which the history recounts with great punctuality and truth. "Signor (said the squire), I have at length traduced my wife to consent that I shall attend your worship where soever you please to carry me."-"Say reduced, and not traduced, Sancho," replied the knight. "I have once or twice, if my memory serves me (said Sancho), entreated your worship not to correct my words, if you understand my meaning; and when you can't make it out, I desire you would say, Sancho, or devil, I don't understand thee: then if I fail in explaining myself, you may correct me as much as you please; for I am so fossil."-" I do not understand thee now (cried Don Quixote), nor can I comprehend what thou wouldst be at, in saying I am so fossil."-" So fossil (said the 'squire), that is, whereby as how I am just so."-" Nay, now thou art more and more unintelligible," replied the knight. "If your worship does not understand me now (answered Sancho), I know not how to express it; for I am already at my wit's end, and Lord have mercy upon me."-" O! now I conceive thy meaning (said the knight), thou wouldst say thou art so docile, gentle, and tractable, as to comprehend every thing I say, and retain whatsoever I shall teach thee.""I'll lay a wager (said the 'squire), that from the beginning, you knew my meaning by my mumping, but wanted to confound me by lead ing me into a thousand more blunders."- "It may be so (said the knight), but in reality what says Teresa ?"-" Teresa (answered Sancho), says I must be sharp with your worship. Fast bind fast find: he that shuffles does not always cut; and that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush: now I know that a wife's counsel is bad, but he that will not take it is mad."-" So say I (replied Don Quixote), proceed, friend Sancho, you speak like an oracle to-day."- "Why then the case is this (resum

ed Sancho), your worship very well knows we are all mortal, here to-day and gone to-morrow; for the lamb goes as fast as the dam; and no man in this world can promise himself more hours of life than God is pleased to grant him; because death is deaf, and when he knocks at the door of life is always in a hurry, and will not be detained, either by fair means or force, by sceptres or mitres, as the report goes, and as we have often heard it declared from the pulpit."-" All this is very true (said the knight), but I cannot guess what you drive at."-" What I drive at (answered Sancho), is, that your worship would appoint me a certain monthly salary for the time I shall serve you, to be paid out of your estate; for I don't choose to depend upon recompenses that come late or low, or never. God will protect me with my own. In short, I would know what I have to trust to, whether little or much; for the hen clucks though but on one egg; many littles make a mickle; and he that is getting aught is losing nought. True it is, if it should happen, which I neither believe nor expect, that your worship can give me that island you promised so long, I am not so greedy or ungrateful, but that I will suffer my rent to be appraised, and my salary deducted in due portion."-" To be sure, friend Sancho (said the knight), all portions ought to be proportioned."*" I understand you (replied the 'squire), I should have said proportion instead of portion; but that is of no signification, since my meaning is comprehended by your worship."

Ay, and so thoroughly comprehended (said Don Quixote), that I have penetrated into the inmost recesses of thy thoughts, and perceive the mark at which those innumerable shafts of thy proverbs are aimed. Look you, Sancho, I would appoint thee a salary, if I could find in any history of knights-errant one precedent, by which I might discover, or have the least glimpse of what they used to give monthly or yearly; but I have carefully perused all, or the greatest part of those histories, and cannot remember to have read that any knight-errant ever paid a certain salary to his 'squire. I only know that all of them trusted to favour, and when it was least in their thoughts, provided their masters chanced to be fortunate, they found themselves rewarded with an island, or something equivalent, and, at least, were honoured with rank and title. If, with these hopes and expectations, you are willing to return to my service, do it a-God's name; but if you think I will unhinge and deviate from the ancient customs of chivalry, you are grievously mistaken: wherefore, friend Sancho, you may go home again, and declare my intention to your wife Teresa; and if she is pleased, and you are willing to depend upon my favour, bene qui