owing to the unsightly red-tile roof which was put on, about a century since, to replace the lighter Moorish fabric, which had fallen to ruin. In the centre of the court is the Fountain of Lions. This is a magnificent basin, cut out of one piece of beautiful white marble, supported on the backs of twelve or fourteen lions. There are several halls which open upon this court. To the right is the Hall of the Abencerrages. In the centre of this chamber, a large fountain is set into the white marble pavement, on one side of which are some ferruginous stains, which my guide pointed out as the blood-marks of the Abencerrages massacred here by Boabdil. On each side of this hall there are several alcoves set into the thick walls, which are entered under beautifully-wrought arches, supported by delicate marble columns. The roof is lofty, and presents that peculiar hanging appearance resembling stalactites. The centre of the vault represents the escutcheon of the Kings of Granada, with the motto, Le galib ile ALLAH GOD only is great.

Opposite the Hall of the Abencerrages, on the left-hand side of the court, is the Chamber of the Two Sisters, so called on account of two large white marble slabs which form a greater part of the pavement.

The entrance to this hall passes under some most exquisitely-ornamented arches. This chamber is somewhat larger than the one last described, but its decorations are similar. The only light it receives is through several small oval windows, placed just below the lofty vaulted ceiling, which throw a dreamy, voluptuous, half-day-light through the apartment. At the extremity of this sala, opposite the entrance, there is a beautiful little alcove, used as the boudoir of the Sultana, from which a window looks upon the Patio de Lindaraja, a charming little court surrounded by columns, and ornamented with flowers and shrubbery.

Returning to the Court of Lions, in front of the door of entrance is the Sala de Justicia, the Hall of Justice, which is in the form of a gallery, divided into three parts. The ornamentation of the walls and arches of this hall is exceedingly rich. The ceiling is covered with curious frescoes, representing chivalrous and amorous subjects, which are well worth examination, as they are doubtless correct representations of the costume of the times.

After having viewed the Patio de los Liones and the halls which surround it, I was conducted up a stair-case and through a gallery to a square tower, on the top of which is a small room, ornamented with frescoes and arabesques, and surrounded with a light colonnade. This is called El Tocador de la Reyna, or Dressing-room of the Queen; and it must have been a charming retreat during the heats of summer. Every breeze has access there, and the eye may wander with never-ending pleasure over one of the most beautiful landscapes that nature ever formed.

Descending again, and passing through the Patio de Lindaraja, I entered the baths, which are one of the best-preserved portions of the Alhambra. The azulejos, or curiously-painted tiles which cover the lower part of the walls, and the immense marble slabs which form the pavement, are in perfect preservation.

The arrangement of the baths is similar to that still used in the east. They are constructed of white marble, in the form of large square basins.

I ascended now to the top of the Tower of Comares, from whence the eye embraces the whole edifice, and overlooks the town and surrounding country. To the north was the Albaycin, the most ancient part of Granada, with its quaint old houses and narrow streets, that scarcely seemed wide enough to give passage to a corpulent man; to the east extended a long line of walls which enclose the Alhambra, and beyond arose the magnificent Sierra Nevada, with its eternal snow; to the south was the palace of Charles V.; to the west, the towers of El Homenaje and La Vela; and beneath, court-yards, towers, and walls, many of which had fallen to ruin, while others were fast crumbling to decay.

Such was the Alhambra as I saw it; but its present condition gives a faint conception of what it was in its days of splendor, ere time and the destroyer's hand had commenced their work, and when its thirteen hundred towers, each with their warder, crested the hill; when the blue and gold coloring had not faded from the fairy-like lace-work on the walls; when the thousand fountains had not ceased to charm the senses, nor the voice of music to float through those halls of oriental voluptuousness.

Yet, in spite of time and the destroyer's hand, this structure still delights the eye of every beholder; and as the stranger wanders through its silent halls, and the history of the past comes back upon him with all its stirring incidents, he appears to tread upon enchanted ground.

Evening is the witching time to visit this spot; for when seen by the pale light of the moon, the ravages of time are hidden from sight, while the imagination, awakened by its dreamy light, may re-people this charming abode with the children of the past. The airy form of the beautiful Zoraya may again flit across the marble halls; the dusky Moor may be seen musing amid the shadows of the trees, and the voice of song, mingling with the sound of fountains and running waters, may once more reecho through these marble halls. Nothing can be more charming, then, than the Court of Lions, with its marble galleries and its slender columns, with their filagree capitals and light open-worked arches. Enveloped in the pearly light, they appear like the work of the enchanter's wand, the realization of our dreams of a fairy palace.

Not far from the Alhambra, but occupying a still more elevated position, is the Generalife, a palace used as a summer-residence by the Moorish princes. Only a small portion of this building, however, still remains. The façade presents a series of porticoes supported by marble columns, and the principal entrance opens upon a large saloon covered with arabesques, and containing several beautifully-arched door-ways giving entrance to smaller apartments. But all the delicate lace-work of the Moor has been covered up with white-wash, which the Spaniard has not spared on any Moorish building. The terraced garden is beautiful. The river Darro is led through the grounds in every direction, and the murmur of running waters is heard every where beneath the thickets of roses and myrtles. The visitor will be shown a venerable cypress-tree, said to have been planted by Abul-Walid in 1332. It was under this tree that the frail and beautiful Zoraya, wife of Abulhasan, was discovered with her lover, the Abencerrage.

The kingdom of Granada is one of the most fertile portions of Spain.

The Sierra Nevada, or Snowy Ridge, supplies its beautiful valleys with perpetual streams of fertilizing water, producing a never-ending succession of crops.

This kingdom was the last home of the Moors in Spain, who fled hither from the Christian advance; and it became the centre of their various arts and sciences, as well as of their agriculture and commerce. Granada, under their dominion, possessed a population of half a million, and at present it scarcely numbers eighty thousand inhabitants.

Let us descend now to the city, and stroll through its narrow winding streets, where the sun-shine scarcely gains an entrance. Here is the Tacatin, the shopping-street, with its narrow lanes, impassable for carriages, and its little low shops, just as they were left by the Moors.

Now we come to the place of Bib-Rambla, the heart of Granada, once filled with bazaars, where the richest products of the east were displayed. Here were held the festivals and tournaments; and here, according to tradition, was given the last fête beheld by the beautiful Zoraya, which terminated in a bloody combat between the tribes of the Zegris and the Abencerrages, which was a prelude to the fall of this long flourishing and happy kingdom.

The public promenades are charming retreats at all hours of the day. Here, beneath avenues of gigantic trees, and amid the song of numerous fountains, which shed round their refreshing influence, the élite of Granada resort to take their evening stroll.

We will pass now to the Albaycin, the most ancient and curious part of Granada, which has remained almost entirely unchanged since the days of the Moors. It is now almost entirely inhabited by a race of Gypsies, who flourish amid the mud and filth of the dirty narrow streets. Just at the out-skirts of the town, numerous caves were pointed out to me, which are also inhabited by a part of this ragamuffin race.

The cathedral is well worthy of a visit. This immense structure is in the Græco-Romano style, and was founded in 1529. Its fine beautiful naves are formed by enormous pillars, composed of four half columns united at the top by Corinthian capitals; and its lofty dome, painted in white and gold, gives an air of grandeur to the interior. Many of the chapels contain beautiful paintings, particularly those on the right-hand side of the grand portal. In the Capilla de San Miguel, the first, there is a fine Cano, called La Virgen de la Soledad. The expression of the face is melancholy, but full of sweetness.

In the Capilla de Los Reyes, the largest and most beautiful chapel connected with the church, are the sepulchres of Ferdinand and Isabella, upon which repose their full-length statues. This tomb is most exquisitely wrought, and the figures and ornamentation afford a study for hours. Next to the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella, is that of their daughter, Inasca, and her husband, Philip of Burgundy. The sacristan removed an iron grating in the pavement, which displayed a flight of steps, and we descended by them to a small vault beneath the tombs, where I beheld the coffins of the wisest and greatest sovereigns that ever ruled Spain.

Ascending to the chapel, the sacristan pointed out to me the carved

effigies of the king and queen on each side of the altar, which are said to be correct representations of their faces, figures, and costumes.

The painted carvings behind them, on the retablo of the altar, are very curious, representing the conquest and conversion of the Moor. The first is the surrender of the Alhambra. Isabella is seen mounted on a white steed, riding between Ferdinand and the celebrated Cardinal Mendoza. The later has his hand extended to receive the key of the city, which the conquered Boabdil submissively presents. Behind are knights, ladies, and numerous captives.

The other basso-relievo represents the conversion of the Moors after the conquest, where shorn monks are baptizing the crowd by wholesale. There are numerous other churches and convents in Granada, a description of which, however, would scarcely interest the reader, for they have nearly all been stripped of their most valuable works of art, and appear to be in a decaying condition from long neglect. In 1835 and 1836, all conventual establishments were suppressed throughout Spain, and their property confiscated by the State, to be sold, and applied to the payment of the public debt and expenses. This wholesale spoliation brought great poverty into the church; for although the government undertook her support, it has never been able to fulfil its engagements, owing to the financial difficulties of the country.

It is for this reason that we see so many churches and convents stripped of their riches and works of art, and that the eye is so frequently pained with the ruin and desolation that surrounds so many noble edifices in Spain.

R. T. II.

CONCEALED LOVE.

BY JAMES C. PEARSON,

SHE loved him but he knew it not. Her heart
Its secret hoarded, as the miser doth
His precious gold. Whene'er he looked aside,
Her eyes were bent on his, and there reposed,
Till a returning glance their radiance quenched
In love-born tears, trembling beneath the veil
Of each deep azure orb, cast down to earth
In quiet sadness. He was her heart's dear theme
From matins to the vesper-chime; and night
Brought to her couch the fancies of each day
In dreams whose chaste and ever-new delights
Melted in sorrow with the morrow's snow.
Alas! it could not be that one so fair
Should long endure such load of misery.
A twelve-month stole the roses from her cheek,
And laid her in the narrow resting-place
Where now she sleeps, untouched of every care,
With wealth of bright flowers growing over her.

A REMINISCENCE.

BY MARTHA RUSSELL

THERE's rosemary-that's for remembrance

'IN the motion of the very leaves of spring, in the blue air there is found a secret correspondence with the heart. There is eloquence in the tongueless wind, and a melody in flowing brooks, and in the whistle of the reeds beside them, which, by their inconceivable relation to something within the soul, awaken the spirit to a dance of breathless rapture, or bring tears of deep mysterious tenderness to the eyes-like the enthusiasm of patriotic success, or the voice of one beloved singing to you alone.'

SHELLEY'S LETTERS.

'THE feet of the avenging deities are shod with wool,' says the old Greek proverb, and its truth is never more deeply felt than when the sounds and shows of spring, the voices and occupations of little children, become the plummet to stir the dark waters of remorse that underlie almost every human experience.

We, in our wisdom, forgetting that we are but children of older growth, are accustomed to speak of the joys and sorrows of childhood as slight and transitory; things of little note. But is it so?

Let each one look into his own heart; let him ask himself what memories bring the brightest flush of pleasure to the cheek, or the keenest pang of remorse to the heart, and he will find them those which stretch up from these mis-judged and slighted days.

At least I have found it so, else the laughing voices of those children yonder would have no power to bring up reflections like these. Years lie between the present and the hour they recall, yet its shadow has followed fast on my foot-steps, and will never be lifted from my path until it is lost in the darker one from the valley of death, and I am able to say, in the language of the blessed land that lies beyond, the words I have so oft repeated here -'Forgive!'

And yet it is a pleasant scene- those children on the massive old horse-block yonder, (famous in the annals of my own childhood as the seat of many a mighty consultation; the citadel of retreat when wet floors or any other domestic operation made our presence de trop in the house,) with the old knife,' theirs in virtue of its dulness ever since they have been old enough to use such an article, busy in the manufacture of whistles from the golden branches of the willow, whose pale-green catkins lie scattered at their feet, while the chenille-like tassels of the maples above them droop idly in the warm sun-shine, and the air around is filled with the slumberous hum of a pioneer-company of yellow-coated bees, who are already rioting on the blossoms of the maples.

The old house-dog lies near them, in a warm nook, with his nose thrust between his out-stretched paws, lazily watching their proceedings from under his half-shut eye-lids. He evidently considers himself a judge of such matters; (well he may, old Bruno, for he has seen more years than either of those brown heads above him ;) for as they spring to their feet, sending down a whole shower of chips and twigs, and blow a shrill