‘Wherefore, straighten Rosinante’s girths a little,’ said he,’and clear brilliant God be with you. Stay for me here three days, and nomore; if I do not return in that time you may go to Toboso,where you shall say to my incomparable Lady Dulcinea that herenthralled knight died in attempting things that might havemade him worthy to be styled “hers.”‘ Sancho, more terrified than ever at the thoughts of beingleft alone, to temptGod by undertaking exploits from which there was no escapingbut by a miracle; and, in order to emphasize this verysensible remark, secretly tied Rosinante’s hind legs togetherwith his halter. Seeing the success of his contrivance, hesaid: ‘Ah, sir! behold how Heaven, moved by my tears andprayers, has ordained that Rosinante cannot go,’ and thenwarned him not to set Providence at defiance. Still Sanchowas much too frightened by the infernal clatter to relax hishold of the knight’s saddle. For some time he strove tobeguile his own fears with a very long story about thegoatherd Lope Ruiz, who was in love with the shepherdessTorralva – ‘a jolly, strapping wench, a little scornful, andsomewhat masculine.’ Now, whether owing to the cold of themorning, which was at hand, or whether to some lenitive dieton which he had supped, it so befell that Sancho . . . whatnobody could do for him. The truth is, the honest fellow wasovercome by panic, and under no circumstances would, or did,he for one instant leave his master’s side. Nay, when theknight spurred his steed and found it could not move macau jobs for foreigners , Sanchoreminded him that the attempt was useless, since Rosinantewas restrained by enchantment. This the knight readilyadmitted, but stoutly protested that he himself was anythingbut enchanted by the close proximity of his squire. We all remember the grave admonitions of Don Quixote, and theingenious endeavours of Sancho to lay the blame upon theknight. But the final words of the Don contain a moralapposite to so many other important situations, that theymust not be omitted here. ‘Apostare, replico Sancho, quepensa vuestra merced que yo he hecho de mi persona algunacosa que no deba.’ ‘I will lay a wager,’ replied Sancho,’that your worship thinks that I have &c.’ The brief, butmemorable, answer was: ‘Peor es meneallo, amigo Sancho,’ which, as no translation could do justice to it, must be leftas it stands. QUIETA NON MOVERE. We were nearly meeting with an adventure here. While I wasbusy making a careful drawing of the BATANES, Cayley’s ponywas as much alarmed by the rushing waters as had been SanchoPanza. In his endeavours to picket the animal, my frienddropped a pistol which I had lent him to practise with,although he carried a revolver of his own. Not till he hadtied up the pony at some little distance did he discover theloss .
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