and silence for a given space of time, acknowledging, by a gentle movement of their fan, the salutations of their fair friends from the recesses of their coaches, and seeming to dread lest the air of heaven should visit them too roughly; though the soft breeze, laden with balm steals over the sleepy water, and the last rays of the sun are gilding the branches of the trees with a broken and flickering light. . . .
Then at certain intervals of time, each carriage solemnly draws up beside its neighbor, (as in the other paséo); the elegant carratela beside the plebeian hackney-coach; the splendid equipage of the millionaire beside the lumbering and antique vehicle whose fashion hath now departed. There sit the inmates in silence, as if the business of life were over, and it was now their part to watch the busy world from the loop-holes of their retreat, and see it rolling along, whilst they take their rest. The gentlemen also draw up their prancing steeds, though not within hail of the carriages, but they in the fresh air and under the green trees have as much advantage over the Señoras as the wandering friar has over the cloistered nun.
Yet enter the Viga about five o'clock, when freshly watered, and the soldiers have taken their stand to prevent disturbances, and two long lines of carriages are to be seen going and returning, as far as the eye can reach, and hundreds of gay plebeians are assembled on the sidewalks, with flowers and fruit and dulces for sale, and innumerable equestrians in picturesque dresses, and with spirited horses, fill up the interval between the carriages, and the canoes are
