Chapter 23

Voyage through the Mediterranean.--Gibraltar on Sunday.--Beautiful Alameda.--Visit to the Famous Fortress.--Wild Monkeys.--Cannon and Flowers.--Tangier.--Morocco.--Straits of Gibraltar.--A Moorish City of To-day.--Local Scenes.--A Private Museum--The Governor's Palace.--Rusty Keys.--The Typical Moor.--The Slave Market.--Oriental Tableaux.--Visit to Washington Mount.--A Cup of Moorish Coffee.--From Gibraltar to Malaga.--Spain.--The City of Raisins and Sweet Wine.

The sonorous puff of the steam-winch told us that the anchor had already parted from its hold of the land, the ship glided slowly through the deep waters like a huge sea-monster, the tremulous vibration of the hull caused by the regular plunge of the screw was resumed, and we laid our course once more westward. A gale of wind welcomed us back to the sea, and the heavy weather forced the ship on a southerly course. In our passage from Malta to Gibraltar, a distance of about a thousand miles, we sighted the shores of Africa, the headlands of Tripoli, and the coast of Morocco, reaching our port of destination at last, prepared to testify to the treacherous and restless nature of this great inland sea.

We landed at Gibraltar on Sunday, March 11th, and in our walk from the shore to the quaint old tavern known as the King's Arms,--combining much comfort with its dinginess,--we found the day was but partially observed as one of rest. The stores were mostly open, and the numerous bar-rooms noticeably so, after the usual style in Roman Catholic countries. The first impression was, that we were within the precincts of a large fort or military cantonment, every other person being in uniform, while sentries and cannon were as plenty as at Woolwich or West Point. England here supports a garrison of from four to six thousand men at a vast expense, but it is undoubtedly quite necessary for her to do so, as it is also important to keep a well-organized garrison at Aden, Prim, Singapore, and Ceylon. The highway to her possessions in India is too important to trust in other hands. Hence her late demonstration in Egypt, and the favor with which government looks upon the proposed new canal, to be constructed nearly parallel with that now existing, and which will be virtually an English enterprise, in spite of M. de Lesseps' ingenious devices and finesse.

The people of Gibraltar are of a mixed nationality; those of Penang and Singapore are scarcely more so. Here we have English, Portuguese, Moors, Spaniards, Italians, with some Maltese. The occupation of these people is almost entirely that of sailors, and after deducting the garrison, they form three fourths of the population. They are of rather a quarrelsome disposition, especially as the large number of bar-rooms is a constant temptation to drink; but the police arrangements are excellent, and all are kept in due subjection by the ready arm of discipline. The place is virtually under martial law at all times, and in dealing with the class of humanity which naturally congregates here, this system has special advantages. There is no compounding of felony, no compromising with crime. If the laws are outraged, the offender knows he will be instantly arrested and punished, without any fear of popular sympathy. It is not the severity, so much as the certainty of punishment, which causes the reckless and abandoned element of society to respect good and wholesome laws. Punishment of crime is swift and sure at Gibraltar.

The military, warlike aspect of everything is partially relieved by a very spacious public garden and promenade combined, located at that portion of the place known as Europa Point, just outside the gates of the city proper on the seaward side. These gardens being upon a sloping hill-side are terraced, or divided into three plains, about which are planted, with regularity, a variety of fine and thrifty trees, as well as many beautiful flowers, the whole forming a charming Alameda. The broad graveled paths are bordered by sweet-scented geraniums, the scarlet and pink growing wild; verbenas, coronella, and roses of many species, mingle artistically with the statues and fountains interspersed about the grounds. To all of this, just across a stretch of blue water, Africa forms a background. The military band plays here once or twice each week, adding to the natural attractions of the spot; but there is such an almost entire absence of social life, or refined society at the rock, that we imagine few people, except children and nurses, improve the advantages of the Alameda. A walk through the principal street, known as Waterport Street, lined with low drinking places, taverns, or lodging-houses, junk stores, and cigar shops, would not lead one to expect the population to be of the sort to appreciate good music, or to enjoy a quiet promenade in well-kept grounds. Of course there are exceptions to this deduction, and there are a few delightful people, appreciative and cultured, at Gibraltar; but it must seem like being buried alive to make one's residence in such an unattractive place.

Through the kind assistance of the American Consul we obtained a special permit to visit the fortifications, particularly of that portion which forms the lofty and impregnable citadel. It is difficult to decide in this most remarkable fortress whether nature or art has done the most to render it what it seems absolutely to be, impregnable,--the strongest citadel in the world. The improvements in modern gunnery have lately caused important additions and alterations to be made. A hundred-ton gun was landed fresh from England while we were at the rock. One natural cave which was visited, in the system of fortified apartments, with port-holes commanding a broad sweep, was large enough to contain a regiment of soldiers; and the entire rock, fifteen hundred feet high, seems honey-combed with small connected caves, supplied with cannon commanding all approaches, by land or sea. We asked the officer who accompanied us how it would be possible for men to work these heavy guns in such circumscribed space as characterized many of the galleries. "Why?" he asked in turn. "Because," we added, "of the concussion, reverberation, and the density of accumulated smoke." He smiled, and replied: "There is something in that!" The fact is, the deafening reechoing of sound would prove fatal to gunners in a very short time, if suffocation itself did not ensue. We were told that all recently constructed batteries at the rock are left open to the sky, which would seem to indicate that the government engineers recognize these simple facts.

The largest cave, called St. Michael's, is eleven hundred feet above the sea level, with lofty halls sixty feet high and two or three hundred feet long. Here many fossil human remains have been found from time to time. The fortress is constantly so provisioned with stores, and such arrangements are perfected for a water supply, that with but a few days', nay, possibly a few hours' notice, it could be put in a condition to withstand a year's siege. Donkeys were employed to ascend the steep and winding path which leads to the top of the lookout station, for it is a tedious climb. Wherever soil could get holding place upon the face of the cliff, wild flowers had burst forth and were thriving after their own lovely fashion. Here were daturas and daphnes mingled with heliotrope; the latter so overgrown as to be a small tree rather than a shrub. Stooping down to gather some of these, we looked into a cannon's mouth, a screened battery,--screened by heliotrope and blooming heath! Further up we came upon the face of the rock looking towards the south-east, where the wild monkeys claim undisputed possession: their home for centuries past. They are quite a recognized institution here, though they must be satisfied with very frugal fare, the stunted vegetation affording but small variety. It may be doubted if they are very gentle or amiable creatures; for when it was discovered that they were becoming gradually extinct a few years ago, some were imported from Africa to recruit their numbers; but no sooner were the foreigners let loose near the spot, than the Gibraltar monkeys resisted the intrusion, and soon killed every one of the new-comers.

On the north side of the rock we visited some half-artificial, half-natural galleries, from whence scores of grim muzzled guns of heavy calibre command the Neutral Ground, which, so far as England controls it, is also entirely undermined, ready to be sprung upon the approach of an enemy on the land side. On our winding way to the summit, or signal station, we often found the path lined with asphodel and palmitos, while at the very top, where the signal sergeant has a small house, was a pretty sheltered garden of pansies, tulips, pinks, and roses, daintily arranged by some woman's hand. The remarkable view from this elevation was of vast extent, and truly magnificent; especially to seaward, where the straits were plentifully sprinkled with the white wings of commerce, full-rigged ships assuming the proportions of sea-gulls, and steamers only visible by the dark line of smoke trailing in their wake. At the foot of the rock, on the Spanish side, lay the town, a thick mass of yellow, white, and red houses; and nestling near the shore was quite a fleet of shipping, looking like maritime toys. The mountain ranges of Ceuta and Andalusia, on opposite continents, were mingled with soft, overshadowing clouds, while over our heads was a glorious dome of turquoise blue such as no temple reared by man could imitate.

One of the few fragments of antiquity, which meets the eye of the tourist at Gibraltar, is the remains of the ancient Moorish castle located on the west side, about half way up the steep acclivity of the fortifications. A crumbling wall extends, after a crooked fashion, down from the main structure towards the shore. Where everything else is so trim and orderly, this famous remnant of the barbaric ages seems strangely out of place; but it would be a positive sacrilege to remove it. It has stood some stout blows and heavy shot in its day, and they have left their deep indentures on the moss-grown, crumbling stones. The Moors held sovereignty over the Rock for more than seven hundred years, and the old tower stands there as a sort of black-letter record of these ages. The merciless finger of Time has been more fatal to it than shot and shell.

We embarked on the small coasting steamer Leon Belge for a passage across the Straits of Gibraltar, which separate Europe from Africa, landing at Tangier, Morocco, the distance being some seventy or eighty miles. The sea is always rough between the two continents, quite as much so as in the channel between France and England. Our little craft was neither very steady nor very dry under the experience. As we drew away from the Spanish shore, the long range of Andalusian mountains stood out, compact and clear, with their snow-white summits sparkling in the bright morning sun. On the lowlands, sloping to the water's edge, the fields were robed in a soft green attire, and dotted with herds of goats and cattle. Old stone watch-towers lined the shore at regular intervals, and coast-guard houses sheltering squads of soldiers, for this region is famous as the resort of smugglers. On the opposite coast of Africa the Ceuta range grew every moment more distinct; the loftiest peaks were also mantled with snow, like the white flowing drapery of the Bedouins. Still further on, dazzlingly white hamlets enlivened the Morocco shore, with deep green tropical verdure in the background, while Ceuta attracted more than ordinary interest. It is a Spanish penal colony, surrounded by jealous, warlike Moors, slave-traders and smugglers. If we are to believe the stories told by our captain, it must be one of the most dangerous and uncivilized spots on the face of the globe.

Tangier stands on the western shore of a shallow bay, upon a sloping hill-side, but is not at all impressive as one approaches it. The windowless houses rise like cubical blocks of masonry one above another dominated by a few square towers which crown the several mosques, while here and there a consular flag floats lazily upon the air from a lofty pole. The rude zigzag wall which surrounds the city is seen stretching about it, and this is pierced by three gates which are carefully closed at night.

Cairo is Oriental, but Tangier is much more so. Here we seem at one step to have passed from modern civilization into barbarism. There is no European quarter in Tangier; every evidence of the proximity of the opposite continent disappears; the distance might be immeasurable. It is Moorish from one end to the other; the very atmosphere and prevailing odors announce it. It has little, narrow, dirty, twisted streets, through which no vehicle could pass, and only accessible for donkeys, camels, and foot passengers; there is no such thing as a wheeled vehicle in the place. The women veiled, but scantily clad in some thin white texture, move about like uneasy spirits, while one meets constantly an humbler class, clad in a short blue cotton skirt, with little naked brown babies astride of one shoulder. The men, with scarlet turbans and striped robes, lounge about with their bare heels sticking out of yellow slippers. There is no spirit of hospitality here, no welcome to be read in those frowning bearded faces. Strangers are not liked, and are only tolerated for the shekels that can be extracted or robbed from them. Now we meet a wild, tawny Arab, a straggling son of the desert, his striped abba, or white bournous, hanging in graceful folds about his straight figure; and now a Nubian with only a waistcloth. Jews with dark blue caftans and red sashes; and Jewesses in bright purple silk, with uncovered, handsome faces. Here and there is seen a Maltese or Portuguese sailor, hiding on account of some crime by which he has outraged the laws on the opposite continent. The Jews, though numerous, are hated and oppressed, being the descendants of those exiled from Europe in the Middle Ages. The variety of races which one meets in these contracted passage-ways is curious, represented by faces yellow, bronze, white, and black. Add to all the crowd of donkey-boys, camels, goats, and street peddlers, crying, bleating, blustering, and braying, and you have a modern Babel of sights and sounds such as greet the stranger in the streets of this Moorish capital.

After strolling for a while through the steep, ill-paved lanes, which were a perfect exposition of crookedness, we were brought by our guide to the house of the Belgian Consul, a curious structure in the Moorish style, more of a museum than a dwelling-house. Here, the resident official, who has long filled the post, has gathered about him a collection of articles, antique and modern; but all representative of Morocco and its surrounding countries. The collection was of warlike arms of all sorts, domestic implements, armor, dress ornaments of both sexes, saddlery, pipes, rude native pictures, precious stones, and the like; the whole forming a special historical record which would be highly valuable in any European centre. It is surprising, when one indulges in a specialty, what a valuable collection can be gathered, and of what general interest it is sure to prove. From this Oriental museum we were taken to the Governor's Palace, where we met his Excellency, sitting cross-legged on the floor of a small court, at the entrance of the ancient and dilapidated structure. He was surrounded by a dozen most rascally-looking be-turbaned councillors, who, after we had been shown over the palace, were none of them above taking a shilling fee. The building was very queerly cut up, with tiled roofs at all sorts of angles, bay windows, projecting apartments, as though hung in air, and ample space for the harem, with its bathrooms, reception rooms, and many cozy nooks and corners whose use was quite past finding out. Besides there were ugly dungeons in the basement, entirely underground, like those of the Doge's Palace at Venice; and in strong contrast to which there were courts of greenery, where the thick, glossy leaves of the orange-trees set off the fragrant blossoms in a most artistic manner, and where the rank, neglected, undergrowth but half hid what must in former times have been a beautiful flower garden. There was still a heavy myrtle border, and here and there a sweet little flower struggling for existence. The denizens of the harem must once have tended and petted these flowers; but the cold, stone-latticed apartments were all vacant now, the floors damp and slippery with moss and dirt. Desolation was clearly written upon the walls.

This Governor's Palace is anything but a palace now. A portion of the building was improved as a dwelling for his Excellency, who sat soberly and silently discussing his long-stemmed pipe with Oriental indifference, as we came through the outer court on our departure. In visiting the several divisions of the palace, there had been found one section where the keys were missing, and this led to some delay while the custodian tried to procure them, the door being finally forced open by a slight physical effort. On coming out a number of rusty keys were observed upon the wall, causing us to remark that the missing one might be among them; whereupon the guide told us that these were of a different character,--keys brought from Spain when the Moors were expelled thence, and now held sacred as heir-looms. This was only a casual remark, but yet one which came back to us with special emphasis, as will by and by be explained.

As we were about to mount our donkeys a dignified individual took the guide, with whom he was evidently acquainted, one side for a moment. He would have been noticeable anywhere as a man of character, a typical Moor. Mixed as the population of Tangier is, still one easily individualizes the several races, and above all cannot fail to admire the noble, manly specimens of Moorish blood. They are naturally broad, yet light, with figures faultlessly straight without stiffness; the arms are set well back and are carried with peculiar grace, while a general dignity of bearing is always observable. The eyes are large and receding, the nose aquiline, features regular, with a rather large mouth and brilliantly fine teeth. We could not but look critically at the Moor who was engaged for the moment with our guide, for he was a good representative of that proud race which in its glory built palaces like the Alhambra, and such mosques as that at Cordova.

Our leisure moments here were passed in strolling through the queer native bazars; examining the mosques, from the towers of which at sunset we heard the Muezzin call to prayer; and in visiting the slave market, just outside of the city walls, where business is prosecuted though not so extensively as heretofore. These slaves are mostly prisoners of war, sold by native chieftains in Guinea to Morocco merchants, who drive them, chained together in long strings, from market to market until disposed of for the harems or as laborers. The sales take place always on the Sabbath, regarded as a sort of holiday. The average price of the women and girls is from fifty to sixty dollars, according to age and good looks. The men vary much in price, frequently selling at much lower figures, according to the demand for labor. About the large open space near the slave mart were congregated groups of camels and their Bedouin owners, who had just arrived from the interior, bringing native goods, with dried fruits, to market, forming an assembly such as can only be found on the borders of the desert, and which, indeed, would be utterly out of place except beneath the glow and shimmer of an African sun.

There were men, women, children, and animals, each little group a family, picturesque in their squalor and their coarseness. Their brown, flat tents were of the same shape and material as those we had seen between Suez and Ismailia. Naked children and half-clad mothers peeped at us out of their canvas homes, or raised their heads above the awkward saddles and trappings of the kneeling camels, behind which they reposed. The docile, uncouth, buff-colored beasts were soberly chewing their cuds, and resting after their long and weary journey. It was a striking scene, which an artist would have traveled far to sketch, lying under a warm, hazy, atmospheric covering, so peculiar to Egypt and Africa, with the rough, red stone walls of the city for a background, and the arched Moorish gateway at the side. Here and there were to be seen dapple-gray horses of unmistakable Arab breed, animals which any rich European would have been proud to own. In one instance, seeing a fine full-bred mare and her foal lying down amid a family group, the children absolutely between the mother's legs, who was untethered, and the colt also extended on the ground with them, at our request the guide asked of the sober old Arab, who sat cross-legged, smoking by the entrance of the tent, what he would sell us the horse and colt for. "Tell your chief," was his answer, "there is not enough money coined to purchase them." This was a good and independent response. "But," added the guide, "he will sell you his wife, or any of the children!" We were contented with purchasing some fresh dates from an itinerant, who cried them in good, sonorous Arabic, "O dates, in the name of the Prophet!" and got most iniquitously cheated, both in quality and in price, according to the guide.

At sunrise, on the morning following our arrival, mules were ready at the door, and we started off, laughing merrily over the crude saddlery and other untoward fittings of the animals. Ladies' side-saddles are yet a myth in Morocco. We were bound for Washington Mount, a league or two outside the city walls, where the American Minister, several foreign consuls, and a few rich merchants of European birth make their homes, in handsome modern villas, surrounded by perennial gardens and orchards. The vegetation was often so rank as to overhang the narrow and steep roads up which we wended our way. They were so thick with agave and prickly pear, that we could hardly keep upright in the saddle. The trefoil, honeysuckle, myrtle, and white convolvulus grew in rank profusion, with occasional pale pink, single-leaved roses. Over the hedges in the private grounds, though it was early in March, we saw the orange-trees and pomegranates, the former laden with large, yellow fruit, and the latter blushing crimson with flowers among companion palms, figs, and olives. On the way through the meadow, before coming to the ascent, the ground was enameled with a pale blue daisy, which the guide told us was perennial here. After an hour's ride, emerging upon the high, open plateau, there burst upon our eyes a most enchanting view. The far-reaching waters of the Mediterranean seemed to surround the land upon which we were. Looking off towards the Spanish coast, a few white sails intervened to give character to the maritime scene; while a large steamship was making the passage of the straits, leaving behind her a long line of dense smoke. How suggestive was that expanse of waters, the most interesting of all known seas: its shores hallowed by associations connected with the entire progress of civilization; the cradle, as it has been aptly called, of the human race, the battle-field of the world, and still the connecting link between Europe, Asia, and Africa.

All around us, upon the sloping hill-side, were delightful villas, painted in bright colors, and half buried in thrifty foliage, each located in an atmosphere redolent of fruits and flowers; its front ever open to that glorious sea-view. The broad piazzas of these smiling homes were hung with hammocks, telling of luxurious out-door life. Family groups could be seen taking their morning coffee on the verandas; and the voices of many children rang out clear and bird-like, floating up to the eyrie where we were perched. Down towards the shore lay brown, dingy, dirty Tangier, with its mud-colored groups of tiled roofs, its teeming population, its mouldy old walls and arched gates, and its minarets, square and dominant. On our way back, we again passed through the slave market, and saw a freshly arrived caravan pitching their tents after a long and weary journey. A snake-charmer was busy amusing an idle group of boys and girls in one of the small squares, and a group of dancing girls, with tambourines and castanets, looked wistfully at us, hoping to get an audience; but our yet unhonored breakfast awaited us, and the mountain excursion had imparted healthful appetites.

It was quite the thing to patronize one of the little dingy cafes, and so we patiently endured the punishment of drinking an egg-shell cup of a muddy compound called coffee, but nothing short of compulsion would have induced a repetition of the same. A dose of senna would have been ambrosia compared to it. In passing through a narrow court we saw a group of children sitting cross-legged, in a circle, on the floor of an open house, with books in their hands, presided over by a sage-looking Moorish party, with long, snow-white beard, and deep-set dark eyes that seemed to burn like gas jets. The guide explained that it was a native school; and the children, who were all talking aloud at the same time, in a drawling, sing-song tone, swaying back and forth incessantly, were learning their lessons. When we inquired what special branch was being taught them, he answered: "The Koran; they learn it from the beginning to the end." "And is that all the instruction imparted to them?" we asked. "Of course," he replied; "what else do they require in Morocco?"

The houses were more like toys than dwelling-places, they were so very small, rarely of more than one story, the walls whitewashed to such a degree as to be almost blinding. Now and then the monotony was broken by an arabesque window, but, as a rule, there were none opening outward; like all Moorish houses, they had a small inner court upon which doors and windows opened, thus avoiding being overlooked, and promoting the seclusion of the harem, which seems to be the first and foremost idea of the Eastern people. Nearly the last sound that greeted our ears as we walked down over the irregular pavements, and through the narrow lanes towards the pier from whence we were to embark, was the rude music of the snake-charmer; and the last impressive sight was that of a public story-teller, in one of the little squares, in earnest gesticulation, as with a high-pitched, shrill voice he related to a group of women, who were squatted in their white haiks, and men of the desert in their hooded gehabs, what the guide told us was a chapter from the "Thousand and One Nights!" We embarked once more on board the little Leon Belge for Gibraltar, well pleased with our brief visit to the curious Moorish capital.

The Sultan of Morocco is supreme, and holds the lives and fortunes of his subjects at his will. He is judge and executor of laws which emanate solely from himself. Taxation is so heavy as to amount to prohibition in many departments of enterprise. All exportation is hampered, agriculture heavily loaded with taxation, and only so far pursued as to supply the barest necessities of life. Manufacture is where it was centuries ago, and is performed with the same primitive tools. The printing-press is unknown. There are no books; the language itself is such a mixture of tongues and so corrupted as to have hardly a distinctive existence. The power of the sultan sucks the life-blood out of the people, who obey the local sheikhs; above them are the cadis, controlling provinces; and still higher the pashas, who are accountable only to the sultan. And yet the Berbers, so-called, who form the basis of the native population, outnumbering the Moors, Arabs, Jews, and Negroes, and who live mostly in the nearly inaccessible mountains of the Atlas, are so independent, savage, and turbulent, as to nearly defy the imperial authority, yielding only so far to its control as they deem advantageous to themselves. The Arabs occupy the plains and are nomadic; the Moors possess the wealth of the land and control most branches of trade, making their homes in the cities, and are the direct descendants of the Moors of Spain. Strange there should be such a spirit of detestation existing towards every idea associated with civilized and Christian life, but so it is at Tangier.

From Gibraltar to Malaga by sea is less than a hundred miles eastward along the coast. We embarked on board the English steamer Cadiz. Fortunately the trip is a short one, for the boat was filthy, and had just been transporting cattle from England to the Rock. The water was rough enough to make the few passengers, except ourselves, quite seasick; which, in the contracted accommodations of the Cadiz, made matters far from agreeable. To add to the discomfort there was a steady downpour of rain during the trip; but we were no strangers to such contingencies, and made the best of it. The irregular Spanish coast was in sight through a veil of mist nearly all the way until we landed, after a slight skirmish with the custom-house officers, at Malaga, March 15th. It is commercially one of the most important cities of Spain, and was once the capital of an independent state, with plenty of ancient lore hanging about it, as it was a large and prosperous Phoenician capital centuries before Christ. The older portions of the city have all the Moorish peculiarities of construction,--narrow streets, narrow passages, small barred windows, and heavy doors; but the more modern part of Malaga is characterized by broad, straight thoroughfares, and elegantly built houses. This is especially the case with the Alameda, which has a central walk lined on either side with handsome almond-trees, edged by plats of flowers, and green shrubs intermingled, besides which there are statues and a fountain of an elaborate character at the end of the walk. On either side of this promenade is a good roadway, flanked with houses of pleasing architectural effect, lofty and well relieved.

There are several fine open squares in Malaga, some of which contain statues and ornamental trees and flowers. The discovery, not long since, of Roman antiquities in the environs has created a warm interest among archaeologists. The trade of the city in wine, dried and green fruit, is large; and we were told that nearly nine tenths of the forty thousand butts of sweet wine, sold here for foreign use annually, were exported to the United States. On the whole, we were agreeably disappointed at the thrifty and business-like aspect of the city. There are no picture-galleries or art treasures to examine; but the people of new localities are always an interesting study, and the shops were decidedly the best we had seen since we left America. There is a grand cathedral, which is considered almost the only place worth exhibiting to strangers. It is of rather modern date, having been commenced in 1528, and is of mixed style, its facade constituting almost its only feature of remarkable beauty.

The old Moorish castle, crowning the seaward heights, has been converted into a modern fortress, and is well worth visiting for the superb view to be obtained from the battlements. Few people now come to Malaga except for a special purpose. In a sanitary point of view, as a resort for consumptives, it has long enjoyed a reputation which it certainly does not merit to-day, whatever it may have done in the past. First, it is much too cold and damp for delicate lungs. Again, it has not one comfort or social attraction to interest the visitor in search of health. Moreover, its sewerage is shamefully defective. Indeed, in the older parts of the town, the surface gutters receive and convey all the accumulated filth, so that the atmosphere is most unfavorably influenced. The published mortuary statistics have been unfairly given, as the mortality is larger in percentage than in any other part of Spain, which, as a rule, is far from possessing a healthy climate. We doubt if physicians any longer advise their patients to resort thither, certainly they would not do so if possessed of personal experience of the place.

The present population is a little over a hundred and twenty thousand, and is made up of a community of more than average respectability, though it would appear that there is an unreasonable percentage of beggars to be met with. In and about the cathedral of Santa Barbara the visitor finds this nuisance extremely annoying. Malaga has one of the largest bull-rings to be found in Spain. We were shown all over its various offices with evident pride on the part of the custodian. All contingencies, are here provided for. One apartment, with the necessary appliances, is arranged as a surgery, so that if the picadors, chulos, or matadores (bull-fighters) be any of them seriously wounded, the surgeon, who is always in attendance, can at once proceed to business. Another large apartment is fitted up as a Roman Catholic chapel. If any of the bull-fighters are fatally injured and about to die, here the priest, as regular an attendant as the surgeon, can administer the last rite, shrive the sufferer of all sin, and start him on his triumphant way to other, and, it is to be hoped, happier hunting-grounds. At the bull-ring the populace, to the number of from fourteen to fifteen thousand, assemble nearly every Sabbath during the season, to witness this most cruel of all sports. No seat is left unoccupied, and, as we were informed, the day before the exhibition tickets are nearly always sold at a premium. The devotion of the Spaniards to this national sport is universal, from the grandee to the peasant. More than once has the attempt been made by the throne to bring the cruel business into disrepute, but it has been found unavailing. The taste is too deeply rooted in the masses of the people. We were told subsequently, at Madrid, that an attempt to suppress the bull-fights in Spain would be more likely to lead to a revolution than would the most stringent political measure that could be named. The cry of the mob is "Bread and bulls," which is very significant to those who have studied Spanish character.

The English cemetery, laid out upon a terraced hill-side just out of the city borders and overlooking the harbor, is a very interesting resort, admirably kept and appropriately ornamented with choice trees, shrubs, and flowers, tropically luxuriant from its southern exposure. In the squares, streets, and market places of Malaga, women sat each morning weaving fresh-cut flowers, fragrant clusters of rose-buds, mignonette, pansies, violets, and geraniums, pretty little clusters of which they sold for about one shilling, and found ready purchasers. One may be sure there is always a refined element in the locality, whether otherwise visible or not, where such an appreciation as this is manifested. The bull-fight may thrive; the populace may be, as they often are in Malaga, riotous and mischievous; education may be at a very low ebb, art almost entirely neglected; but where a love of nature, as evinced in the appreciation of beautiful flowers, is to be found, there is still extant on the popular heart the half-effaced image of its Maker.

The Spanish heart is by no means all bad. That the bull-fight fosters a spirit of cruelty among the masses no one can doubt, and that cruelty is a characteristic of the Catalan race is also only too well known. No other people would tolerate such cruelty; and that it is a disgrace to the nineteenth century every intelligent person outside of Spain will admit.

It is a very interesting fact, but seldom realized, that Spain in the time of Julius Caesar contained nearly eighty millions of inhabitants, but to-day it has less than eighteen millions. In glancing at the map it will be perceived that Spain is a very large country, comprising nearly the whole of the southern peninsula of Europe (Portugal being confined to a small space), and extending north and south over six hundred miles. It is about double the size of Great Britain, and is rich in every known mineral, though she is poor enough in the necessary energy and enterprise requisite to improve her extraordinary possibilities. In many sections of the country great natural fertility is apparent, but nature has to perform the lion's share of the work. We were told by intelligent residents that many parts of Andalusia, for instance, could not be exceeded for rural beauty and fertility in any part of Europe, though we saw no satisfactory evidence of this; indeed, what we did see led to a contrary conclusion. In the environs of Malaga and the southern province generally, there are orange, lemon, and olive groves miles in extent; and the Moors had a poetical saying that this favored region was dropped from paradise, but there is more of poetry than truth in the legend. What is required is good cultivation and skilled agricultural enterprise. These would develop a different condition of affairs, and give to legitimate enterprise a rich reward. The sugar-cane, the grape-vine, the fig-tree, and the productive olive, mingling with the myrtle and the laurel, gratify the eye in and about the immediate district of Malaga; but as one advances inland, the products become natural or wild, cultivation primitive and only partial; grain fields are sparse, and one is often led to draw disparaging contrasts between this country and those of more ambitious and industrious agricultural nations.

While the more practical traveler is filled with a sense of disappointment at the paucity of thrift and vegetation, the poet and the artist will still find enough to delight the eye and fire the imagination in Spain. The ever transparent atmosphere, and the lovely cloud effects that prevail, are accompaniments which will hallow the desolate sierras for the artist at all seasons. The poet has only to wander among the former haunts of the exiled Moors, and view the crumbling monuments of his luxurious and artistic taste, to be equally absorbed and inspired.