garrulity. He had a small estate in the environs, and a very modest house; but he had levelled it with his own hands, and cut down his pear-trees, so that the enemy could not use them. I heard of a thousand of his valorous deeds in the first siege, and he wore a decoration on his right sleeve, the embroidered shield of distinction of the sixteenth of August. He dressed badly, and went almost half-naked, not because he lacked clothing, but because he had not time to put it on. He and others like him were without doubt those who inspired the celebrated phrase of which I have already made mention: “Their bodies were clothed only in glory.” He slept without shelter, and ate less than an anchorite; indeed with two pieces of bread and a couple of bites of dried beef hard as hide, he had rations for the day.
He was a man somewhat given to meditation. When he saw the works of the second parallel, he said, looking at the French: “Thanks be to God, they are drawing near. Cuerno! Cuerno! these people are a trial to one’s patience!”
“What a hurry you are in, Uncle Garcés,” we said to him.
“I should say so. I want to plant my trees again before winter is over. And next month I want to build my little house again.”
Truly Tío Garcés should have worn a tablet on his brow like that on the bridge, reading, “An unconquerable man.”
But who comes there, advancing slowly along the valley of the Huerva, leaning upon a thick stick and followed by a lively little dog which barked at all the passersby, merely for mischief, without any intention of biting? It is the friar, Father Mateo del Busto, reader and qualifier of the order of Saint Francis de Paula, chaplain of the second company of Saragossa volunteers, an important man, who, in spite of his age, was seen during the first siege in all places of danger, succoring the wounded, helping the dying, carrying ammunition to the well, and cheering all by his gentle