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GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA.

The small cars on the railroad which carried us from Algeciras to Granada were divided into compartments with doors opening from the sides. Each compartment comfortably seated eight persons, four facing the front and four the rear. This arrangement of seating allows general conversation among the group, and, if the occupants are congenial, promotes sociability.

A traveler speeding through the United States in a "Chicago Limited," at the rate of sixty miles an hour, can merely catch glimpses of objects on the way and receive only blurred and indistinct impressions of the scenery; but when traveling in the "Spanish Express," at the more moderate speed of twenty-five miles an hour, he can enjoy clear and vivid pictures of the unfolding panorama. Let me try to describe some of these pictures just as they appeared to us during the trip.

Looking back after leaving Algeciras, we saw the huge rock of Gibraltar, almost an island, connected with the main land by a narrow, flat, sandy isthmus. Across the "neutral ground," as the strip between the English and Spanish possessions is called, a line of sentry boxes extended, and red-coated British sentinels paced back and forth. Parallel to the British line there was another line of sentry boxes, where the soldiers of Alfonzo were on guard to prevent the smuggling of tobacco and other forbidden wares into Spain.

TWELVE WEATHER BEATEN MARBLE LIONS UPHOLD AN ALABASTER BASIN.

"See those miserable little white plastered huts with roofs made of straw," said one of our party. "I did not know that the people were so poor."

This picture of poverty was our first impression of Spain. For some distance the train had been running through a region apparently unfertile, where fences of sharp spined cacti enclosed small fields. The people were shabbily dressed, the houses straw-thatched and dilapidated, and the little patches of land poorly cultivated. It seemed that Sunday was a common wash-day; for at almost every cottage the family wash was hanging in the sun on trees, shrubs, or cacti.

Within an hour, however, we were passing through a section of the country entirely different in aspect, where the cork industry gives employment to many people. For a distance of eight or ten miles groves of cork-oak trees were in sight. At the station were bulky piles of cork bark, cars stacked with cork were on the sidings, and great carts drawn by oxen were on the roads bringing in still more of this valuable commodity.

"Millions of bottles are made in our city," said a New Jersey girl, "and there is enough cork here in sight to stopper them all."

Beyond this, the land was more fertile and under better cultivation. Well built stone houses replaced the huts; glossy-leaved orange trees and pink-blossomed almond trees dotted the fields or filled the orchards. Instead of fences, the boundaries of fields and farms were marked at the corners by white stones projecting above the ground. Farther along, yellow-green olive plantations, magnificent in size and beautiful in color, filling the valleys and hillsides as far as the eye could see with orderly, far-reaching lines of trees, made so impressive a sight that it drew forth many expressions of admiration.

SPANISH CHILDREN CAME TO THE STATION.

Women, as gatekeepers, waved white flags to signal that the crossings were clear. Gangs of men, often thirty in a gang, were in the fields cultivating leeks or onions with crude, heavy-looking, short-handled hoes. Teams of long-horned oxen attached to old-fashioned plows, at times eight or ten teams in one field, were turning up the soil. Occasionally ox-teams drawing heavily laden carts or wagons were seen along the smooth white roads; but more frequently appeared trains of slowly moving donkeys, five or six in a line, with gay trappings and bells and panniers piled high with produce, driven by red-sashed muleteers.

At stations where the train stopped five or ten minutes, the doors at the sides of the compartments were opened and the passengers descended and walked up and down the platform. Spanish women, carrying jugs, cried "Lacte," "Limonada," "Narrandjada," and "Acqua," and other peddlers with baskets offered "bollos," "tortitas," and "narranges." After some difficulties in obtaining information as to "how much," the shillings and pence, pesetas and centimes of the tourists were exchanged for the milk, lemonade, orangeade, and water, the cakes, rolls, and oranges of the dealers.

One of the ladies, after making a purchase, said, "I asked that woman with the black-eyed baby the price of a half dozen oranges. She said, 'Fifty centimes.' Then I offered her an English six-pence, and she gave me six oranges and a penny in change."

Spanish boys scrambled for a roll or boiled eggs thrown to them, and men, women, and children extended their hands for money or remnants of our luncheon. One boy who had secured an apple and an egg in a scramble laughed with happiness over his success. These people did not appear to be destitute; for children, as well as adults, were comfortably clothed, and wore neat looking shoes and stockings. As the day, however, was Sunday, probably they were in holiday attire.

"MAY WE KODAK YOU?" "THEY ALL DO," HE REPLIED.

The red-capped station masters were important personages. At the principal stations they directed the starting of the trains with the greatest care and deliberation. In our own country the conductor's hand touches the signal-cord and the train moves. At Ronda, a bell in the station rang, then a red-capped employee trotted along the length of the train ringing a hand dinner bell. A minute later he repeated his trip with warning bell, then the whistle tooted, but it was not until the red-cap was sure that every passenger was aboard that the whistle issued a second toot and the wheels began to revolve. These extraordinary precautions, although affording amusement for the tourists, may have been taken under special orders of the railroad officials in order to avoid accidents and insure our safety. At any rate, we know that the railroad officials and their Spanish employees did give us special attention and treat us with kindness and courtesy.

Through many deep cuts and tunnels, over romantic gorges of dark depth, and along cliffs whose heights we could not see, the train climbed and crossed a mountain range. As the car emerged from tunnel or cut, changing scenes of wild and savage landscape appeared near by, and charming glimpses of distant valleys far below. The torrents and waterfalls of the river Gaudiara added to the weird beauty of the scene. A stanza in Southey's poem, "The Cataract of Lodore," fittingly describes the wildness of the river that we crossed and re-crossed so often:

"Here it comes sparkling

And there it lies darkling:

Now smoking and frothing

The cataract strong

Then plunges along,

And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing:

And so never ending but ever descending,

Sound and motions forever are blending."

A famous canyon, deep and narrow, with rushing, foaming stream, seemed like a crevice sliced down by a gigantic blade. Towns and villages far away amid green fields and gray olive orchards, and buildings of white and cream, luminous in the sunlight, with backgrounds of dark and rugged mountains, produced a succession of picturesque views. Among the hills were seen young Davids, staff in hand, guarding flocks of grazing sheep, ancient swineherds lazily watching droves of swine feeding on the roots, and goatherds following their nimble-footed brown herds as they picked their way among the rocks.

As we approached our destination, the valleys showed signs of great prosperity. The fields were highly cultivated; the farms were irrigated by ditches of flowing water; the orchards were well trimmed; the buildings larger; and the red-sashed laborers more sprucely attired.

MARVELOUSLY BEAUTIFUL IN MOORISH SPLENDOUR.

At Pinos we saw the stone bridge where, in 1492, Columbus, on his way to France, disheartened by his failure to interest King Ferdinand in his plans, was over-taken by Queen Isabella's messenger and summoned back to court to receive his commission.

As twilight was settling down we arrived on schedule time at the white stone station in Granada where carriages stood in waiting to convey us to the hotels. The Spanish drivers strove to surpass each other in speed. Our coachman lashed his horses till they ran like a run-away team. Regardless of anyone in the streets, grazing wagons by the way, overtaking and passing carriages ahead, he gave us the wildest ride we had ever taken. This chariot race to the hotel, a distance of over a mile, happily ended without accident or collision.

"Well, I'm thankful that ride is over without an upset," exclaimed with a sigh of relief a nervous lady, who had tried ineffectually to restrain the driver's zeal by the use of English words which he did not understand.

The old Cathedral, covering ground equal to a block in length and half a block in width, always attracts many visitors. Massive pillars support the roof and marble tiles cover the floor. The light, falling softly through stained glass windows, discloses valuable paintings on the walls, fine statuary in the aisles, and decorations of white and gold.

"Is this building very old?" some one inquired.

"Old!" replied the guide with scorn in his voice, "this Cathedral was here when Columbus discovered your country." The guide, however, exaggerated somewhat. It was built just about the time America was discovered.

HERE WASHINGTON IRVING LIVED FOR A TIME.

In the Royal Chapel of the Cathedral, upon an alabaster mausoleum decorated with fine carving, lie the effigies of Ferdinand and Isabella. The soft, creamy alabaster gives them the appearance of sleeping. An inscription on the tomb reads as follows:

This chapel was founded by most Catholic Don Fernando and Dona Isable, King and Queen of Spain, of Naples, of Sicily, of Jerusalem, who conquered this kingdom and brought it back to our Faith; who acquired the Canary Isles and the Indies; who crushed heresy, and expelled the Moors and Jews from these realms.

Queen Dona Isable died Nov. 26, 1504.

King Don Fernando died Jan. 23, 1516.

On the altar of the chapel is a very interesting bas-relief representing the surrender of the city of Granada. In the sacristy we were shown the carefully guarded holy relics; the richly embroidered vestments used on ceremonial occasions, the sword of Ferdinand; the sceptre, crown, and mirror of Isabella; and the casket which contained the jewels that the Queen offered in pledge to secure funds for Columbus.

"Most precious of all the relics," said the sacristan, "is the handkerchief with which the blessed Santa Veronica wiped the sweat from the Savior's brow on the road to Calvary. This bears the impression of the Savior's face."

The greatest point of interest in Granada, perhaps in all Spain, is, of course, the Alhambra. This is the name given to a collection of buildings located on an elevation that overlooks the city. These palaces on the heights were for many centuries the dwelling places of the Moorish kings, surrounded by their nobles, retainers, and guardsmen. They were also the repositories in which were stored the immense treasure accumulated from the forays of the Moors upon the Christians of northern Spain, and from the sacking of Christian cities. The palaces of the rulers and the treasure within were protected by great citadels and by stout walls which encircled the heights.

DECORATED WITH ARABESQUES AND STORIED WITH INSCRIPTIONS.

In the latter part of the fifteenth century, after a long struggle, the Moorish power was overthrown by King Ferdinand, and since then Granada has been a Spanish city. Columbus was present at the court of the Spanish sovereign when the capitulation of Granada occurred in April, 1492, and within two weeks after the surrender of the city received his commission to sail in search of a new world.

Washington Irving's description of the entrance of the conquering Spaniards into the Alhambra after the capture of the city, might, with the change of a word or two, still portray the visit of a party of modern tourists.

THE GENERALIFE OVERLOOKS THE ALHAMBRA.

"The halls lately occupied by turbaned infidels," he writes, "now rustled with stately dames and Christian courtiers, who wandered with eager curiosity over this far-famed palace, admiring its verdant courts and gushing fountains, its halls decorated with elegant arabesques, and storied with inscriptions, and the splendor of its gilded and brilliantly painted ceilings."

PROTECTED BY CITADELS AND WALLS.

Although the coloring is faded, and in many places the intricate ornamentation is crumbling or broken, sufficient remains to show how marvelously beautiful it must have been in Moorish splendor. And beautiful it still is, notwithstanding the ravages of time.

While in the Court of Myrtles, some of the party examined the light, graceful arches and the stucco tapestry interwoven with flowers and leaves that adorn the galleries; others were more interested in the gold fish swimming in the transparent water of the long sunken tank in the center of the tiled court. In the richly ornamented Hall of the Ambassadors, the state reception room of the king, we waited while the guide, in answer to a request, interpreted some of the delicately carved inscriptions that fill every available space on the wall.

"One of these mottoes," said the guide, "that is repeated over and over again on almost every wall of the palace, reads: 'There is no conqueror but Allah.' Other mottoes which are very common are: 'There is no God but Allah;' 'Mohammed is the envoy of Allah;' 'Allah is great;' 'Allah never forgets;' and various quotations from the Koran."

Twelve weatherbeaten marble lions in the center of the Court of Lions uphold a large alabaster basin in which were caught, in times gone by, the falling waters of the fountain above it. Many graceful pillars support the surrounding arcades of this court and the exquisite fret-work looks as if carved in ivory.

A practical man in the party called attention to the beautiful wooden doors through which we entered the Hall of the Abencerrages, and to the peculiar manner in which they were hung on pivots instead of hinges. On the rim of the marble basin in the center of this hall some red stains were seen.

"Here," said our guide, "is where the heads of the Abencerrages were cut off.

"But why was Aben's head cut off?" inquired a lady.

This gave the guide the opportunity he desired.

"A prominent member of the tribe or family of the Abencerrages, named Hamet," he replied, "fell in love with the Sultana, and she in return loved the handsome and gallant warrior. Secret meetings took place under a cypress tree in the garden of the Generalife until the Sultan, Boabdil, accidentally discovered their meetings. The enraged Boabdil, without revealing his knowledge of their actions, invited the guilty Hamet and every member of his tribe to attend a banquet. As each guest arrived at the palace he was brought into this hall. Here the guards seized him, forced his head over the edge of this basin, and the sharp simitar of the executioner showed no mercy. This was the king's revenge, and so the stains on the fountain."

The Room of Two Sisters brought forth exclamations of praise. Walls covered with dainty traceries in plaster, like embroideries on a ground of lace work; dados brilliant in fantastic designs of red, green, and blue; ceilings dropping thousands of stalactites each differing from the others in beauty of form; and charming views from the boudoir windows of floral beds and fountains in the garden beyond,—all these combined to make this place a suitable residence for a Queen.

In the Baths we saw where royalty had bathed in marble basins to the sound of music by players in the gallery overhead.

"Here are the rooms which Washington Irving occupied in the Alhambra during his stay in Granada," explained the guide.

THE SUMMER RESIDENCE OF THE MOORISH KINGS.

Some of us tried to recall Irving's graphic descriptions in the "Conquest of Granada" of the scenes around this city; of the struggles between the Christian knights under the banner of Ferdinand, and the Moorish cavaliers under the standard of Mahomet; of fields covered with silken canopies; of cavalcades of warriors in jeweled armor and nodding plumes; of hand-to-hand conflicts and daring exploits; of the siege and capture of the city and expulsion of the Moors from Spain. As we thought of the unfortunate Boabdil, the noble queen mother Ayxa, and the beautiful Zoraya, driven into exile, giving up their beloved palace, the home of their ancestors with all its wealth and beauty, to their hated enemies, and leaving the land which had been in possession of the Moors for eight centuries, we to some extent realized the sorrow that filled the hearts of the departing exiles as they looked back for the last time on the heights of Granada and wept.

CHARMING VIEWS FROM BOUDOIR WINDOWS.

Although the buildings of the Alhambra are partly in ruins, the view from the Old Watch Tower has not changed materially. Standing on the tiled roof to which we climbed by many well worn stone steps, we saw a magnificent panorama spread out before us. The city lay almost at our feet; beautiful valleys extended for many miles dotted with white villages; gray olive orchards appeared here and there; verdant hills rose in the distance; and, forty miles away, the snow-covered peaks of the Sierra Nevada pierced the sky.

After leaving the tower, we drove to the Palace of the Generalife, which is situated on the mountain side considerably higher than the Alhambra. We approached this beautifully located residence, where Moorish kings came to spend the summer months, by a wide path bordered with tall cypress trees. In the Court of the Cypresses our Spanish guide pointed to a venerable tree and said: "That cypress is six hundred years old; under it the guilty lovers, the Queen and Hamet, had their meetings until discovered by King Boabdil."

In the gardens of the Generalife, we rambled amid oddly trimmed trees, climbing roses, immense rose bushes, fountains, and grottoes, and wished that our stay might be prolonged. The terraces of the garden have flights of marble steps leading from one level to another. One of the flights we descended had runlets of water flowing down on the top of the marble balustrades. Water, clear and sparkling, which is brought from a mountain stream above, is abundant everywhere in fountains and pools, and in streamlets along the pathways.

Among the sights of the city the milk delivery was interesting to strangers. A number of long-haired brown goats having been driven to the door of a house, a pitcher was brought and the milk drawn fresh from one of the goats; or a cow was led along the street and the milk furnished directly from the cow in any quantity desired by the customer.

Small donkeys with panniers were used instead of wagons for the transfer of almost every kind of material in the city and country. Often the burdens were so large that the donkey was almost lost from sight. We saw these patient little animals driven through the streets variously laden with sacks of charcoal, bundles of wood, baskets of vegetables, crates of oranges, bags of coal, cans of water, kegs of wine, or bearing hampers filled with building stone, bright tinware, or new-mown grass. Even the street cleaners shoveled into the panniers on the donkeys' backs the dirt and refuse that had been collected on the streets. Occasionally we saw men or women or children perched on the top of a load. Two men were sometimes seen riding on one donkey, and once we observed three large men on one small donkey.

INTO THE PANNIERS ON THE DONKEY'S BACK.

As we drove along the streets to the station the residents at doors, windows, and sidewalks smilingly commented among themselves on our outlandish foreign costumes, evidently comparing our American styles with their own familiar dress. It was certainly as interesting to the Spanish women to observe the peculiarities of our costumes as it was for us to notice the mantillas and gay bodices which gave them a picturesque appearance in our eyes. We were being inspected as well as they; but the Spaniards are so polite that there was nothing unpleasant in their curiosity.

It was after midnight when the steam launches carried us across the bay from Algeciras to our steamship. The reception given us at the Moltke, after our two days' absence, made us feel that we had indeed arrived home. Colored fires reddened the waters, clusters of electric lights illumined the sides of the vessel, the band was playing on deck, and the captain welcomed us at the head of the gangway. Then while the orchestra played selections, a full course midnight dinner was served to the hungry pilgrims.