So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been.

* * * * *

MIGUEL CERVANTES

Life and Adventures of Don Quixote

      Miguel Cervantes, the son of poor but gentle parents, was
     born nobody quite knows where in Spain, in the year 1547.  His
     favourite amusement when a boy was the performance of
     strolling players.  He learned grammar and the humanities under
     Lopez de Hoyos at Madrid, but did not, it seems, proceed to
     the university.  He was an early writer of sonnets, and tried
     his hand on a pastoral poem before he had grown moustaches. 
     His first acquaintance with the world was acting as
     chamberlain in the house of a cardinal, but this life he
     presently abandoned for the more stirring career of a soldier. 
     After incredible sufferings and adventures, the poor private
     soldier returned wounded to his family and began his career as
     author.  He soon established a reputation, and was able to
     marry a quite adorable good lady with dowry sufficient for his
     needs.  However, it was not until late in life that he wrote
     his immortal work “Don Quixote,” which saw the light in 1604
     or 1605.  During the remainder of his life he was bitterly
     assailed by the envious and malignant, was seldom out of
     monetary difficulties, and very often in great pain from the
     disease which finally ended his career at Madrid on April 23,
     1616—­the same day which saw the close of Shakespeare’s.

I.—­The Knight-Errant of La Mancha

In a certain village of La Mancha, there lived one of those old-fashioned gentlemen who keep a lance in the rack, an ancient target, a lean horse, and a greyhound for coursing.  His family consisted of a housekeeper turned forty, a niece not twenty, and a man who could saddle a horse, handle the pruning-hook, and also serve in the house.  The master himself was nigh fifty years of age, lean-bodied and thin-faced, an early riser, and a great lover of hunting.  His surname was Quixada, or Quesada.

You must know now that when our gentleman had nothing to do—­which was almost all the year round—­he read books on knight-errantry, and with such delight that he almost left off his sports, and even sold acres of land to buy these books.  He would dispute with the curate of the parish, and with the barber, as to the best knight in the world.  At nights he read these romances until it was day; a-day he would read until it was night.  Thus, by reading much and sleeping little, he lost the use of his reason.  His brain was full of nothing but enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds, amorous plaints, torments, and abundance of impossible follies.

Having lost his wits, he stumbled on the oddest fancy that ever entered madman’s brain—­to turn knight-errant, mount his steed, and, armed cap-a-pie, ride through the world, redressing all manner of grievances, and exposing himself to every danger, that he might purchase everlasting honour and renown.