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PORTUGUESE VIGNETTES.

I.

JOAQUINA: A PORTUGUESE FACTOTUM.

"WHEN the train stops, look out for Joaquina; she will look after your luggage, and manage everything for you."

Such were the instructions with which my cousin saw me off from the town station, as I started on the short journey which should bring me to his house in the country.

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I had heard so much about Joaquina, paragon maid-servants, that I conscious of a distinct feeling of excitement at the prospect of making her acquaintance.

I looked anxiously round as the train came to a halt, and there, in sharp relief against a brilliant background of blue sea, bluer sky, and geraniumclad walls, I saw a portly figure in black. So imposing and dignified did she look, that, had it not been for her welcoming greeting, I should have taken her for the wife of some provincial official come down to "see life" from the station platform.

Joaquina was dressed in black-even her shoes were of black velvet; and she wore round her neck a long and thick gold chain, like an insignia of office. This was her official costume as majordomo, so to speak. I must not forget to mention that she wore a hat, which, to the initiated, meant that she considered her

self in a superior position to the provincial maid-servant who, on grand occasions, drapes her head in the infinitely more becoming lace mantilla.

A very kindly and humorous face looked out from under the hat, with brown eyes that struck me as having a curiously dog-like expression: a wistful, almost pathetic gaze, strangely at variance with the woman's general appearance of comfortable wellbeing.

It did not take me many days to make friends with Joaquina, whose manner towards me was one of respectfully confidential familiarity, equally removed from forwardness or servility: such, I imagine, must have been the manners of the trusted and capable negro "Mammies" who counted for so much in the old families of the Southern States of America, before the war.

She had a genius for work of every description: and, a rare quality in women of her class, she also possessed method and initiative. Housework, laundry work, fine ironing, exquisite needlework, cooking, dressmaking, waiting at table: all of these she could do, and do well, when occasion arose. I have even seen her-looking like a great over-blown poppy, in the cotton blouse and crimson

skirt which constituted her favourite morning costumeworking away in the garden, helping to carry in new soil for the flower-beds, or mixing mortar for a new fowl-house, with the most whole-hearted enthusiasm and enjoyment, quite unspoiled by any idea that it was not her work. To Joaquina, her work included anything and everything that came in her way. As she once said to me: "My master and mistress are saints; and all I can do for them is too little!" By degrees, as my Portuguese became more fluent, Joaquina and I had long talks, and she told me the story of her life. Her grandfather was a German -a gentleman, she had always understood; and one could credit this, noticing her small, well-shaped hands, always nicely kept, and her refined ways of thought and speech.

She was left an orphan at an early age, and sent by her godparents to be educated at an orphanage, where she learnt to read and write well, to keep accounts, and to sew and embroider. She had even passed a preliminary examination in French. On leaving school she had been maid for several years in a great lady's house, and had spent her holidays in visiting places of interest in Portugal. "For I would rather spend my money in seeing new and interesting places and beautiful seenery, than in buying a lot of fine clothes or jewellery."

I imagine that there had been a love-affair-for she always wore a little ring that had been given her, she owned

with a blush and a smile, "by a lad she had known years ago." But the young man's attentions had evidently not been sufficiently serious to satisfy her requirements.

"I do not know how it is, minha senhora, but the naughty girls can always find a husband! The men in this country don't seem to care for serious women." (Seria: that is, steady, well-conducted.) "For my

part, I would rather spend all my days as a respectable spinster than be a married woman without a good reputation!

Joaquina was quite ready to talk upon any subject; sometimes, when I was sitting alone, she would come in, "to keep me company for a little," and sit down on the floor beside my chair, to discuss politics, morals, earthquakes, or travel. Her great desire was to visit England, and to learn English as a preliminary, so now and then I gave her an English lesson, at which she worked with an eagerness that it was almost painful to see. I used to come across her with her little phrase-book, spending odd minutes in study; and she would knock at my door with: "Can-I-come-in? Yes,-come-in!" all uttered in one breath, in her anxiety to show me that she knew the proper answer to her question.

To her poor relations she acted the part of a benevolent patroness. If one wanted a place as servant, Joaquina immediately opened negotiations with some appropriately situated friend-generally an upper

servant in a good family, or a minor official in the township. I know that a postmistress, an elderly gardener, and a highly respectable luggage-porter were amongst her most valued sources of inquiry. On one occasion she was "placing" a niece from the provinces, who came, escorted by her mother, to be introduced to the new situation by the beneficent aunt herself.

Great was Joaquina's delight when her employers gave her leave to invite her relations to sleep in the house for a night or two. She brought them in to thank us: two shy peasantwomen, from a small country town devastated by repeated earthquakes. Out of their poverty they offered us a present some bunches of grapes, and a few ripe blackberries, grown on their little bit of land. It is the grateful custom of the country for the servants to bring back some gift "for the patrons" whenever they have been home to their terra, and these good people could not comfortably

partake of our hospitality without making an acknowledgment to the best of their power. How Joaquina beamed, and "lionised" them over the house and garden, and what long talks they had late into the night, in the big room over mine.

After they had gone, she told me how much she appreciated her employers' kindness. "Not only because they have been good to my relations, but because I was glad that my people should be able to see what excellent and generous patrons mine are!"

Good, loyal Joaquina! So tactful, unselfish, and sympathetic! The parting with her was not amongst the things I least regretted when my stay in Portugal came to an end. She came down to the steamer to see me off: and after she had tearfully kissed my hand, according to the custom of Portuguese servants, our feelings of mutual affection and regret expressed themselves more naturally in a hearty embrace.

II.

ALL IN A DAY'S WORK.

Five o'clock sounded sharply from the little church down by the bay, and Jacyntha opened her brown eyes and looked round her whitewashed room, already bright with warm sunshine. It was still early, but she was an energetic girl, and was soon stepping about, briskly but softly, not to wake

poor Aunt Joaquina, who shared her room, and had been so tired and rheumatic the night before.

Jacyntha considered the little row of shoes that stood by the wall: which pair should it be? Not, of course, the new leather ones, to buy which she had gone purposely into the large

town with her aunt; those were much too precious for workaday use. The erimson and purple checked cloth slippers would do well enough to run about the house in, or the buff linen shoes, though these were worn beyond all the cobbler's powers of repair. Besides, she would be going out in an hour's time, down the rocky path to the beach, to accompany the English ladies when they went to bathe. So the second-best leather shoes, rather shabby but still serviceable, were put on, and Jacyntha slipped downstairs to fit in as much dusting as she could before it was time to set out with the two blue bags containing bath-towels and bathing-dresses for the meninas.

We felt it rather absurd at first to have, as it were, a nursemaid trotting beside us, laden with the belongings that we were quite capable of carrying for ourselves; but we were assured by "Aunt Joaquina " that this arrangement was the correct thing, and that Jacyntha, being a steady girl, would not talk and laugh too much with the bathing-men. So we acquiesced, all the more willingly that we liked the opportunity of a chat with her as we slowly climbed the long hill home again. There was something very attractive in her pale, oval face, set in crisp black hair, and full of intelligence, and now and then of sadness also.

For Jacyntha had not always been a little maid at the beck and call of every member of the household; the whole VOL. CLXXXVIII.—NO. MCXXXVII.

course of her life had been abruptly changed three months before we made her acquaintance. She told us her story one morning, in her serious, refined voice. She and her mother had been dressmakers in a small country town. They lived in their own house, with the old grandmother, who helped a little with the sewing, and another sister who kept the home tidy. The father had his fair-sized bit of land, where he grew vines and worked all day with his son. This quiet, frugal, industrious life had been suddenly broken up by the earthquake of April 1909.

"It was terrible, minha senhora - I heard a great noise, my mother ran upstairs, I ran down, we fetched out my grandmother into our little garden, and then our house split in two; the back was ruined, only the front part was left standing. And all day long every five minutes there were shocks; only once was it quiet for as long as a quarter of an hour. At night we all slept in a little wooden hut in our garden. And after that they built many huts for the people to live in, but not enough for all, and it rained, and many were ill, and there was no more work for my mother and me. So we wrote to the Tia Joaquina, and she sent for me to come here and help her in her work, and they are very kind to me, but, the senhora understands, it makes me sad to be so far from my mother and father and to know that they are still living

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in the wooden hut, and are so ner was over she enjoyed quite poor and hungry."

In spite of her sorrows Jacyntha generally managed to bring a smiling face to her tasks, which were many and varied. Nominally she helped her aunt to iron, dust, and sew; but actually she did all the odd jobs which belonged to no one in particular.

For example, as we went through the garden, and Jacyntha murmuring her polite formula, "With your leave," was about to go round to the kitchen-door, our host called her from the verandah. "Jacyntha, just fill the watering-pot, will you, and water these plants before the sun gets any hotter," and off she ran, saying smilingly, "The senhor is so fond fond of his roses."

As the morning passed by we came across her several times-sweeping, polishing the boards with petroleum, and brushing clothes, and saw her run down the garden on three separate errands, twice to the village to fetch delayed provisions, and once to intercept the postman with letters catch the town

that must mail.

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a refreshing chat with the man who drove the fruit-andvegetable cart, and stopped it for half an hour outside our gate, while he gossiped and bargained with the cook and the nurse from the opposite villa, and heard how well the baby was learning to say, "Viva, Sr. Antonio." Jacyntha's purchases were soon made a few carrots and beans and a lemon or two; but she was left in peace to chatter awhile with her neighbours, as cook and Tia Joaquina were probably enjoying an afterdinner siesta.

But Jacyntha was too conscientious to linger unduly ; and on looking into the ironing-room a little later, I saw her working away with her aunt, while she crooned some interminable old song to the accompaniment of the rhythmical thump of the iron.

Towards evening she was free to fetch her sewing and sit for an hour on the kitchensteps, enjoying the fresh breeze after her hot and tiring afternoon. The cook and Tia Joaquina were there also, and the three talked in complete accord, happily forgetful of the several differences of opinion which had disturbed their peace during the day.

In that leisure hour Jacyntha was making something for herself: a piece of crochet-lace, in a very pretty and intricate pattern. But my last glimpse of her before bedtime showed her at work again, busily mending a pile of the recently ironed clothes. She gave us

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