y from the station: watching and wondering how many passengers it
brought him. If he did not succeed, it should not be for want of effort;
but he had been there long, and apparently did succeed, flourish and
prosper. He was a very attentive host, anxious that we should see and
appreciate all the marvels of Tarragona. Having lost his wife, the hotel
had to be managed single-handed. One son, a boy of fifteen, was being
trained to succeed him. He also spoke French, Spanish and Italian
admirably, and his ambition now was to go to England to learn English.
So far he resembled our Gerona guide Jose, but the one had grown to
manhood, the other was a stripling, though a bright and interesting lad.

"You have not been to Poblet," our host remarked one morning, as he
waited upon us at our early breakfast in the salle a manger. A great
condescension on his part; everyone else was left to the tender mercies
of the waiter who was more or less a barbarian.

"No," we replied; "but we were even now debating the possibility of
going there this morning."

"It is quite possible, senor. You could not have a better day. The
weather is perfect. The train starts in an hour, and the omnibus shall
take you down. I will pack you a substantial luncheon, for you can get
nothing there. My son shall accompany you to carry the basket."

The boy, who happened to be standing near his father, grew elated.

"Oh, senor, say yes," he cried. "A day at Poblet will be splendid. I
shall have a whole holiday, besides getting off my French lesson this
afternoon."

"You shall talk French to us, Francisco, which will be better than a
lesson. We decide to go. Pack an excellent luncheon for three, not
forgetting a bottle of H. C.'s favourite Laffitte."

"Of which I have an excellent vintage," replied our host, who seemed
equal to any emergency. "Frisco, take care that you are ready."

"No fear about that," replied the boy, whose eyes sparkled with
anticipation. And he went off to put on his best Sunday suit. The
landlord on his part bustled off to the kitchen, where we heard him
giving orders to the uncertain chef. Presently he returned.

"You will allow me to put the smallest suspicion of garlic in your
sandwiches," he suggested insinuatingly. "It is the greatest
improvement. The English have an objection to it, but it is mere
prejudice."

A prejudice we unfortunately shared, and our host went back lamenting
our want of taste.

The little incident brou