À propos of the ways of the natives, a Spanish friend of C——’s, who was here the other day, told us a long and harrowing story, which was to him somewhat of a tragedy, though to me, I am afraid, it was only a source of amusement. This man tried the venture of keeping a small stable of quilezes for hire, which is a favourite speculation with young men who want to play with a little capital, either with the idea of trying to keep body and soul together in this expensive country, or else with the perennial hope of being able to get away from it. One of the Englishmen professes to have made a good thing out of it (quilez-hiring), but when we told our Spanish friend this hopeful news, he refused to be comforted, and hunched up his shoulders and spread out his hands, saying, “Horses are cheap enough, and fares are high, which is very well from our point of view; but you have the eternal Filipino to deal with.”
“What does he do in this case?” we asked.
“He does nothing,” said the Spaniard. “In this, as in every other employment, he does not think it necessary to learn, or to know anything at all.”
We said we had observed this trait, and that anyone seemed to be confident in signing on for any job, anyhow.
“They do,” he said, “and this is the sort of conversation I have with every man who represents himself as a driver. ‘Where were you cochero before?’ I ask.
“‘With señor L—— at B——.’
“‘How long ago was that?’
“‘Five years ago.’
“‘Where were you cochero after that?’