upon a scene of redoubled sunlight, for a moment
quite tantalizing to the vision, reminding one forcibly of some Swiss
and Italian roads where car-lamps are burned all day. As occasional
bands of brigands appear, and, stopping the trains, rob the passengers,
government kindly complimented us with an escort of a dozen soldiers,
and we were told that these redoubtable warriors now accompany each
train, besides which two or three good-looking high privates, in neat
uniforms, were observed at each of the stations where we stopped,
marching up and down before the train and eying the passengers, as
though they half suspected us of being banditti in disguise. It is clear
that the administration is endeavoring to render traveling safe
throughout the country, and if they would only render it comfortable and
expeditious at the same time, the reform would commend itself to
universal approval. Punctuality is not a Spanish word, being neither
practiced nor understood from Malaga to Burgos. You take your seat
trustingly for some objective point, but when you will reach it is a
profound and subtle mystery which time alone can solve.

Perhaps no one ever read Washington Irving's description of the
Alhambra without experiencing an ardent desire to visit Granada.
Although that exquisite pen-portrait reads more like romance than
veritable history, yet it is minutely correct and absolutely literal,
teeming with local color and atmospheric effect like the canvas of a
Claude Lorraine or a Bierstadt. As we approached the ancient city, all
early recollections of the glowing text were revived; nor had months of
constant travel rendered us so blase but that an eager anticipation
thrilled every nerve. The train crept slowly along in the twilight with
provoking deliberation, until we were finally deposited in the depot of
the gray old capital, so intimately connected with the most romantic
chapters of Spanish history. How vividly the days of Ferdinand and
Isabella flashed before the mind's eye, mingled with which was the
abortive career of Charles V. Here set the sun of Moorish glory. This
was Granada, and here, close at hand, was that embodiment of poetry, the
Alhambra.

The city once contained over half a million of people, but to-day it has
scarcely sixty thousand,--like everything else material in Spain,
growing smaller by degrees and beautifully less. After leaving the
centre of the town, we drove some distance until the ground began to
ri