ement from
early morn until midnight. Like Paris and Vienna, Madrid does not seem
to thoroughly awaken until evening, the tide of life becoming most
active under the glare of gas-light. The Prado, just referred to, is to
Madrid what the Champs Elysees and the Bois de Boulogne are to Paris, a
splendid avenue, through the centre of which runs a walk and garden
similar to the Unter den Linden of Berlin, or Commonwealth Avenue,
Boston, save that it is more extensive than either of these last named.
The Prado nearly joins the Public Garden of Madrid, on the borders of
the city proper, in which there are also fine carriage-drives, roadways
for equestrians, many delightful shaded walks, and paths lined with
choice flowers. On Sundays and holidays these grounds are thronged with
citizens and their families for out-of-door enjoyment; several military
bands distributed about the grounds add to the attraction.

The royal palace is located upon a slightly elevated site, and is so
isolated as to give full effect to its appearance. It is the only
building of a remarkable character, architecturally speaking, in the
city; being the largest, and one of the finest, royal palaces in Europe.
It belongs to the Tuscan style, and cost between five and six million
dollars a hundred years ago. The base is of granite; but the upper
portion is built of a fine white stone, very closely resembling marble.

In its splendid art collection of the Museo, the city has a treasure
only equalled by the Louvre at Paris and the galleries of Florence. To
artists it is the one attraction of Madrid, and is principally composed
of works by Spanish masters, though also containing many other fine
works of art. Here we may see forty examples by the hand of Murillo,
sixty-four from Velasquez, sixty by Rubens, twenty-five from Paul
Veronese, thirty-four by Tintoretto, and many by Andrea del Sarto,
Titian, Vandyke, and others of similar artistic fame. It is believed
that Murillo appears at his best in this collection. Being a native of
Seville, he is seen, as it were, at home; and artists declare that his
works here show more power and expression than anywhere else. So we go
to Antwerp to appreciate Rubens, though we find him so fully represented
elsewhere. The same may be said of Velasquez as of Murillo; he also was
at home here, and cannot be fairly, or rather fully, judged outside of
the Madrid gallery.

When the French were masters in Spain, they proved to be te