lleys.

At seven o'clock, having ridden that day 76 kil., we halted after dark at
the _moradoria_, or farm, of Mazagan (elev. 2,375 ft. above the sea
level). We were politely asked to enter the house, and immediately
preparations were made to clear out the best room for me. The
illumination was not grand: an ancient metal arrangement--not unlike a
Pompeian lamp--with a wick soaked in oil profusely smoking. In the dim
light I could just distinguish in the background, reclining against the
wall, a youth with a guitar, from which two chords--always the same two
chords--were strummed. The boy seemed in a trance over this musical
composition, and even our appearance had not disturbed his efforts. He
had taken no notice whatever of us. Dinner was prepared--it took a long
time--the musician all the time delighting his admiring family with the
two monotonous chords.

"It is a pity," said his delighted mother to me, "that we cannot send him
to school. He is a genius; he would astonish the world."

"Yes," I hastily agreed, "it _is_ a pity you cannot send him ...
somewhere!"

"Can you not take him with you?"

I explained to the poor woman that it required very civilized people to
appreciate her son's music. Among the wild Indians I expected to find,
later on in my journey, I was sure that with music like that, we should
all be killed; they were such savages!

After two solid hours--and the two chords still continuing, with no signs
whatever of relenting--I asked the musical genius if he could treat me to
a different tune. Alas! he knew no other, but as he saw that I was so
fond of music he would again, with the greatest pleasure, go on playing
the same air--he called it an air.

"_Muito obrigado!_ (Thank you very much!)" I moaned, with a sickly smile
on my lips and a violent internal wish to smash guitar and guitarist.

"_No hai de que!_ (Do not mention it!)" and here recommenced the
repetition of the two chords.

"I should like to go to sleep now; thank you very much again for the
lovely music," I next plaintively added, in my most approved Brazilian
politeness.

"Oh, not at all: I shall go on playing while you are sleeping. It will
give you pleasant dreams!"

It was too pathetic. Nothing short of murder could have stopped his
enthusiasm. Being a traveller of years' experience, I was not to be
outwitted. As he would not stop the music, I stopped hearing it by
stuffing my ears tight with cotton-wool. So I slept sound