Spanish Highways and Byways

Her name was Catalina.

"Her father, Moslem cruel,
He made her bring in fuel.
Her mother fed her gruel.
Ay, so!
Her mother fed her gruel.

"They beat her Tuesday, Wednesday,
They beat her Thursday, Friday,
They beat her Saturday, Monday.
Ay, so!
They beat her hardest Sunday.

"Once bade her wicked sire
She make a wheel most dire,
Of scissors, knives, and fire.
Ay, so!
Of scissors, knives, and fire.

"The noble Christian neighbors,
In pity of her labors,
Brought silver swords and sabres.
Ay, so!
Brought silver swords and sabres.

"By noon her task was ended,
And on that wheel all splendid
Her little knee she bended.
Ay, so!
Her little knee she bended.

"Then down a stair of amber
She saw the cherubs clamber:
'Come rest in our blue chamber.'
Ay, so!
She rests in their blue chamber."

Little Spaniards are not too intolerant to make a play-fellow of the Devil. In one of their pet games, the children form in line, with the invaluable Mother in charge. To each child she secretly gives the name of a color. Then an Angel comes in with a flying motion and calls, for instance, "Purple!" But there is no Purple in the company. It is then the Devil's turn, who rushes in, usually armed with a table-fork, and roars for "Green." There is a Green in the line, and she has to follow the Demon, while the Angel tries again. All right-minded spectators hope that the Angel will have the longer array at the last.

The Virgin's well-beloved name comes often into the children's songs.

"For studying my lessons,
So as not to be a dunce,
Papa gave me eight dollars,
That I mean to spend at once.
Four for my dolly's necklace,
Two for a collar fine,
And one to buy a candle
For Our Lady's shrine."

Even the supreme solemnity of the Wafer borne through the kneeling streets cannot abash the trustful gaze of childhood.

"'Where are you going, dear Jesus,
So gallant and so gay?'
'I am going to a dying man
To wash his sins away.
And if I find him sorry
For the evil he has done,
Though his sins are more than the sands of the sea,
I'll pardon every one.'

"'Where are you going, dear Jesus,
So gallant and so gay?'
'I'm coming back from a dying man
Whose sins are washed away.
Because I found him sorry
For the evil he had done,
Though his sins were more than the sands of the sea,
I've pardoned every one.'"

The affairs of State as well as of Church have left their traces on the children's play. As the little ones dance in circle, their piping music tells a confused tale of Spanish history within these latter days.

"In Madrid there is a palace,
As bright as polished shell,
And in it lives a lady
They call Queen Isabel.
Not for count nor duke nor marquis
Her father would she sell,
For not all the gold in Spain could buy
The crown of Isabel.

"One day when she was feasting
Within this palace grand,
A lad of Aragon walked in
And seized her by the hand.
Through street and square he dragged her
To a dreary prison cell,
And all that weary way she wept,
The lady Isabel.

"'For whom art weeping, lady?
What gives thy spirit pain?
If thou weepest for thy brothers,
They will not come again.
If thou weepest for thy father,
He lies 'neath sheet of stone.'
'For these I am not weeping,
But for sorrows of mine own.