Читать книгу An Australian Ramble; Or, A Summer in Australia онлайн

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The life of the place is al fresco; everyone seems out of doors. Carts drawn by mules or donkeys, with country produce, bright little carriages to hold two or four persons as the case may be, the English officer on horseback—all these block up the middle of the street; whilst on the narrow sideway you wind your difficult way amongst monks and nuns and dark-eyed Spanish women with the national head-dress, and Moors who shuffle along bare-legged, with slippers to their feet, their whole person enveloped in their ample, hooded brown or blue cloak, while some wear the picturesque turban, and others simply rejoice in the well-known fez. As I contemplate the motley group a black-eyed and black-bearded, aristocratic-looking Moor makes a dart at me with a couple of fowls; but, as I decline to purchase, he manages to ask me for a penny—and, let me add, in vain, for I could not think of insulting such a gentleman by offering him so ridiculously small a sum. But I see no beggars, and if the common people look dirty, at any rate they appear to be well fed. I fancy a good deal of British gold, somehow or other, finds its way into their pockets. There are no ragged scoundrels to be seen, such as infest our London streets and are the terror of suburban residents. As you pass, the shopkeeper stands at his door and bids you look at his miscellaneous wares.