About four o'clock in the
afternoon
It is not , however , every wanderer from England -- I blush while saying it -- who can make himself familiar with the home habits , the ways of thought and speech , of a distant people . Bid me discourse of lowly valley , lofty height , of barren waste , shady wood , or cooling stream where I have drunk and been refreshed ; but all these places , pleasant or dreary , must be in the kingdom called the heart . After getting some information about the country I had to traverse from the _ pulpero _ , who told me that I would probably reach the River Yí before evening , I resumed my journey . About four o'clock in the afternoon I came to an extensive wood of thorn-trees , of which the _ pulpero _ had spoken , and , in accordance with his instructions , I skirted it on the eastern side . The trees were not large , but there was an engaging wildness about this forest , full of the musical chatter of birds , which tempted me to alight from my horse and rest for an hour in the shade . Taking the bit from his mouth to let him feed , I threw myself down on the dry grass under a clump of shady thorns , and for half an hour watched the sparkling sunlight falling through the foliage overhead , and listened to the feathered people that came about me , loudly chirping , apparently curious to know what object had brought me to their haunts . Then I began to think of all the people I had recently mixed with : the angry magistrate and his fat wife -- horrid woman !