The clouding up of the weather, however, warned us to depart, and a
harsh wind sprang up from the southeast. Towards five o'clock we
arrived at Osuna, a town of fifteen thousand inhabitants, situated
on the side of a hill, with a church and a ruined castle. The posada
was outside of the walls; it had a cheerless look. The evening being
cold, the inhabitants were crowded round a brasero in a chimney
corner; and the hostess was a dry old woman, who looked like a
mummy. Every one eyed us askance as we entered, as Spaniards are apt
to regard strangers; a cheery, respectful salutation on our part,
caballeroing them and touching our sombreros, set Spanish pride at
ease; and when we took our seat among them, lit our cigars, and passed
the cigar-box round among them, our victory was complete. I have never
known a Spaniard, whatever his rank or condition, who would suffer
himself to be outdone in courtesy; and to the common Spaniard the
present of a cigar (puro) is irresistible. Care, however, must be
taken never to offer him a present with an air of superiority and
condescension; he is too much of a caballero to receive favors at
the cost of his dignity.
Leaving Osuna at an early hour the next morning, we entered the
sierra or range of mountains. The road wound through picturesque
scenery, but lonely; and a cross here and there by the road side,
the sign of a murder, showed that we were now coming among the "robber
haunts.
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