ON MEANNESS 
347 
happy, and the Bank note was in the hands of its original 
holder. 
Now then for True Story No.1. It is my own experience. 
When, nearly 40 years ago, I walked through 
Spain, 
accompanied only by a single chela, there was little paper 
money in use, at least in the rather primitive places which we 
favoured. The currency was confined to the silver peso, and 
its fractions. About 90 miles north of Madrid, we found, one 
fine morning, that our well-meant attempt to pay our bill at 
the posada threw a bombshell into the works: the people of 
the Inn jabbered and gesticulated among themselves for 
about half an hour before they produced our receipt, and 
bade us Hasta la vista! 
Next day, the same thing, rather worse. The day after, 
worse still; and we saw that they were disputing about the 
coins that we had handed over. Finally, about 20 miles from 
Madrid, they wouldn't take our money at all! Instead, they 
pointed out that we were English gentlemen, and they would 
be eternally honoured and grateful if we would send the 
money from Madrid! 
On arrival at that city, we noticed long queues of people 
besieging the Banks; I put my finger to my nose, and said 
Aha! 
But, sitting down at a cafe, oh no! not at all! Pesos were 
passing 
without 
question. 
Well, well! So I got into 
conversation with a knowledgeable-looking bloke, and he 
told me the whole story. It seemed that the Director of 
Customs had a brother in Mexico D.F. who manufactured 
brass bedsteads. The uprights of these were packed with 
forged pesos of Fernando VII and one other king-I forget his 
name-made of the same standard silver alloy as the genuine 
coins, and so well executed that the only way to tell the false 
was that they looked newer than they should have been, in 
view of the date! And so (continued my informant) there was 
a panic, and no one would take any money at all, and the 
city was dying on its feet! So the Government gave orders to