when Borrow
was in Madrid, and he really adds nothing to our knowledge.[127] Then
there were those two incorrigible vagabonds--Antonio Buchini, his Greek
servant with an Italian name, and Benedict Mol, the Swiss of Lucerne,
who turns up in all sorts of improbable circumstances as the seeker of
treasure in the Church of St. James of Compostella--only a masterly
imagination could have made him so interesting. Concerning these there
is nothing to supplement Borrow's own story. But we have attractive
glimpses of Borrow in the frequently quoted narrative of Colonel
Napier,[128] and this is so illuminating that I venture to reproduce it
at greater length than previous biographers have done. Edward Elers
Napier, who was born in 1808, was the son of one Edward Elers of the
Royal Navy. His widow married the famous Admiral Sir Charles Napier, who
adopted her four children by her first husband. Edward Elers, the
younger, or Edward Napier, as he came to be called, was educated at
Sandhurst and entered the army, serving for some years in India. Later
his regiment was ordered to Gibraltar, and it was thence that he made
several sporting excursions into Spain and Morocco. Later he served in
Egypt, and when, through ill-health, he retired in 1843 on half-pay, he
lived for some years in Portugal. In 1854 he returned to the army and
did good work in the Crimea, becoming a lieutenant-general in 1864. He
died in 1870. He wrote, in addition to these _Excursions_, several
other books, including _Scenes and Sports in Foreign Lands_.[129] It was
during his military career at Gibraltar that he met George Borrow at
Seville, as the following extracts from his book testify. Borrow's
pretension to have visited the East is characteristic--and amusing:--

1839. _Saturday 4th_.--Out early, sketching at the Alcazar.
After breakfast it set in a day of rain, and I was reduced to
wander about the galleries overlooking the 'patio.' Nothing so
dreary and out of character as a rainy day in Spain. Whilst
occupied in moralising over the dripping water-spouts, I
observed a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, dressed in a
zamarra,[130] leaning over the balustrades, and apparently
engaged in a similar manner with myself. Community of thoughts
and occupation generally tends to bring people together. From
the stranger's complexion, which was fair, but with brilliant
black eyes, I concluded he was not a Spaniard; in