mediately the sky was flushed with the most
gorgeous colours, which melted into an after-glow that remained far into
the night.

In the midst of this splendid effect of sky we saw across the plains the
wonderful towers and turrets and domes of Zaragoza rising like a
celestial vision. As we neared, we thought it a dream-city: not perched
on a gigantic rock like Segovia, but on a gentle height of some 500 feet
above the sea-level.

The approach to the town is very striking. There is an abundant promise
of good things, not, we are bound to confess, eventually carried out.
Apparently, it is of all cities the most picturesque, with its splendid
river running rapidly through the plain, spanned by its world-famed
bridge, above which rise the beautiful, refined, eastern-looking
outlines; but once inside the town the charm in part disappears. It is
to be worshipped at a distance.

Our first impression told us this, as we rumbled through the streets in
the old omnibus and marked their modern aspect, the busy, common-place
bearing of the people.

We had expected a great deal of Zaragoza; hoped to find a city of great
antiquity, with nothing but gabled houses and ancient outlines worthy
the fair capital of the fair kingdom of Aragon. These we found the
exception. Its antiquity is undoubted, but too much of the town has been
modernised and rebuilt. Still, the exceptions are so striking that when
one's first disillusion is over, it is followed by something very like
delight and amazement.

The hotel was a large rambling building which might have existed for
centuries; and as comfortable as most of the Spanish provincial inns. A
perfect maze of passages; and when the hotel guide piloted us to a
far-off room to see a collection of antiquities of very modest merit we
felt it might have taken hours to get back alone to our starting point.

Zaragoza is large and flourishing; its prosperity is evident; its new
streets are handsome and common-place. Some of them are wide boulevards
lined with trees, lighted with electric lamps, possessing "every new and
modern improvement." As you go through them you almost think of a small
Paris. At night its cafes are brilliantly lighted, and rank as the
finest in Spain. They are always crowded, and fond and foolish parents
bring their children and keep them in the glare and glitter until
towards midnight, when they fall off their perches. Music of some sort
is always going on; sometimes the harsh,