. To look upwards is like gazing at a
palm-forest with spreading fronds.

Like many of the Spanish churches, the light is cunningly arranged, and
the shadow-effect is very telling. A solemn obscurity for ever reigns,
excepting when sunbeams fall upon the windows. Towards evening the gloom
deepens, and all looks weird and mysterious. The outlines of the lofty
roof and spreading capitals are almost lost. We seem to be in a vast
building of measureless dimensions: a dream-structure. The grey, subdued
colour of the stone is perfect. Immense buttresses support the side
walls, and between these are the chapels.

[Illustration: AN OLD NOOK IN ZARAGOZA.]

The first chapel on the left on entering is used as a parish church.
Its Moorish ceiling is magnificent, though difficult to make out in the
dim religious light that too often reigns. The chapel also contains a
very remarkable alabaster tomb of Bernardo de Aragon, brother of King
Alfonso. When we entered, it was almost at the end of a service, and for
congregation the old priest had no one but the verger. He seemed
relieved when it was over, waddled down the steps and disrobed. Then in
a very kindly way he turned to us, bowed as gracefully as his rotund
personage permitted, and bade us note the beauty of ceiling and tomb.

"Light a few more candles," he said to the verger, "and let us try to
get at a few of the exquisitely carved details. It is considered one of
the finest Moorish ceilings in Spain," he continued; "and in my opinion
it is so. You will mark the depth of the sections, beauty of the
workmanship, rich and gorgeous effect of the whole composition. There
never was a people like those wonderful Moors--never will be again as
long as the world lasts. How these candles add a charm to the scanty
daylight, giving out almost a supernatural effect! Has it ever struck
you in the same way, this strange mingling of natural and artificial
light? It is especially refining. Then look at this tomb, and admire its
beauty--though it is of a very different character from the ceiling.
Here we have nothing Moorish. That overwhelming wealth and gorgeousness
of imagination is absent from the cold marble. But how pure and perfect!
Note that exquisite statuette of Benedict XIII.: the figures of the
knights that surround him with their military orders; the drooping
figures of the mourners in the niches. But after all, what is all this
compared with the splendours of the cathedral itself,