Southern Spain

pole to pole-and the crests of the waves which lick her feet are not whiter than her walls. And these by day are bathed in liquid gold, for the sun seems to linger here ere he says good-ni

h hereabouts has so often been splashed with British blood. How often the pale yellow cliffs of Spain to the southward, and those of the lovely shore of Algarve to the north, have rever

St. Vincent to the

ious blood-red, reek

sperate feats of arms. There is little stirring now in the wide harbour, where the ships ride lazily at anchor, and their crews crowd to t

and false starts, the Ph?nicians dared what no people of the ancient world had dared before. The Pillars of Hercules were regarded as the western boundary of the world: beyond was nothingness. And one day, with the east wind filling his sails and fear in the hearts of his crew, some forgotten Columbus of S

e fleets of lost Atlantis, if that mystical isle possessed a ship, resorted hither, for the copper and precious metals of Tarshish. What voyages have begun from this

the gulfs shal

hall touch the

ese dauntless sailors have a

and the estuaries. With their curling black beards I seem to see them, robed in the real Tyrian purple, reclining on the

ed, its merchants known from Britain to the Fortunate Isles, from Lusitania to Arabia. Much wealth engendered luxury. Life in Gades was feverish and distempered. The people had not forgotten the worship of Astarte, and the Gaditane dancing-girls proved themselves worthy daughters of the goddess.

a, when she soon eclipsed Seville as the mart for the produce of the New Indies. Her wealth, not once but many times, wellnigh proved her downfall. Threatened again and again by the Barbary corsairs, she saw a far more terrible foe before her walls in 1587, in the person of Sir Francis Drake, who inflicted incalculable injury on her shipping. Worse was to come nine years later, when the English, under the command of the Earl of Es

ssions secured it almost a monopoly of the trade. But no one organ can hope to escape an infection attacking the whole system. Spain in the eighteenth century was dying from that commonest of national diseases-dry-rot. Yet as late

Free Spain. Cadiz proved a second Covadonga. The focus of the constitutional movement, she was savagely assailed by the Absolutists and their French allies. The defence of Trocadero, on the other side of the bay, against the forces of the Duc d'Angoulême popularized the name of the place throughout Europe.

nturing into the wide ocean; or of Drake and his gentlemen adventurers, "bound wrist to bar, all for red iniquity"; but instead I fancied myself back in the 'thirties of last century, and thought of De Musset and his "Andalouse" and his lovely Spanish girls. Is it possible that Andalusia in those days of our grandfathers was the Andalusia of the Romanticists? At Cadiz, I beguiled myself into believing so-why, I cannot explain. Perhaps it was due to the unexpected appearance of a native-a distinctively Andalusian-costume in the streets. Nowhere else in Spain is the mantilla more conspicuous or more gorgeous. A French writer gives a selection of toilettes worn at a Corrida de toros, which, as I never assisted at one of these functions in Cadiz, I repeat: "All pink, coral neck

irteenth century, was almost totally consumed by the flames. When I say that the new building dates from 1720, I fear that your interest in it will expire. But it is at least imposing; and the choir stalls are very fine. Then there is the Capuchin Convent, where Murillo met his death by falling from a s

cleanliness, make it for some the most charming of Spanish towns. Crenellated walls enclose it on all sides, the space between them and the water's edge being devoted to quays, promenades, and gardens. There are forts at the extremity of the peninsula-the Isla de Leon, as it is called. The streets are all very straight, v

HE GATEWAY

ite to walk by night along the sea wall, which at some points rises sheer upwards from the water, and to inhale the breezes blown straight

uite possible that some rapturous travellers will extol the mystical loveliness of the plains of the Guadalquivir, rating their charms far above the vulgar, blatant scenery of Switzerland and the Riviera, which is at the disadvantage of being at once realized by the mere ordinary person. En passant I cannot refrai

f Cadiz, touching several towns of importance. That any of them are worth a break of journey I doubt. Puerto Santa Maria is said to be much resorted to by toreros and their admirers. I have never heard what attracts them there, but indeed my interest in bull-killing was never more

the good wine comes to England; but at Jerez I think, in all reason, the price of the wine might be a little lower and its qualit

still extant. But the same individuality is not to be expected of the smaller Spanish as of the lesser Italian cities; for the history of the one country has been a record of steady centralization; of the other, obstinate decentralization. In Utrera, and Moron, and Lebrija-even in Cadiz and Granada-there were no independent princes or ambitious municipalities to foster a