The tailor was sure of his fact, since there was no document to attest the imaginary deposit, but fearing the scandal might damage his business, yet unable to confess to the debt after denying it, had recourse to a neighbouring tradesman, who promised to settle the affair.
“Look you here, yokel, why are you making such a fuss about a mistake? Don’t you remember that it was to my shop you brought the fifty reals?”
“Oh, yes,” slyly replied the Gallegan; “but that was another fifty.”
While ascending a steep hill the mayoral opens the door, of the diligence every now and then, to shut it with a loud bang, without a word to the passengers.
“Oh, mayoral!” cries one, “why do you open and shut the door like that, we are freezing.”
“Hush! it’s for the mules; every time the door slams they think somebody has got out, and pull better.”
A countryman wrote the following letter to his son, a student in the capital:—
“My Dear Son,—This is to tell you that I am very displeased with the bad conduct which I have been told you observe in Madrid. If a good thrashing could be sent by post, you would have had several from me. As for your mother, the good woman spoils you as usual. Enclosed you will find an order for seventy reals, which she sends you without my knowledge,
“Your father,
John.”