The air to which these words are sung is wild and high; and the prolonged and mournful cadence gives it the sound of a funeral wail, or a cry for help. To have its full effect upon the mind, it should be heard by night, in some wild mountain-pass, and from a distance. Then the harsh tones come softened to the ear, and, in unison with the hour and the scene, produce a pleasing melancholy.

The contrabandista accompanied us to Granada. The sun had already set when we entered the Vega, those luxuriant meadows which stretch away to the south and west of the city, league after league of rich, unbroken verdure. It was Saturday night; and, as the gathering twilight fell around us, and one by one the lamps of the city twinkled in the distance, suddenly kindling here and there, as the stars start to their places in the evening sky, a loud peal of bells rang forth its glad welcome to the day of rest, over the meadows to the distant hills, "swinging slow, with solemn roar."

Is this reality and not a dream? Am I indeed in Granada? Am I indeed within the walls of that earthly paradise of the Moorish kings? How my spirit is stirred within me! How my heart is lifted up! How my thoughts are rapt away in the visions of other days!

Ave, Maria purissima! It is midnight. The bell has tolled the hour from the watch-tower of the Alhambra; and the silent street echoes only to the watchman's cry, Ave, Maria purissima! I am alone in my chamber,-sleepless,

spell-bound by the genius of the place, entranced by the beauty of the starlit night. As I gaze from my window, a sudden radiance which belongs to its provincial phraseology, and which would be lost in a translation.

"Yo que soy contrabandista,
Y campo por mi respeto,
Á todos los desafío,

Porque á naide tengo mieo.

¡Ay, jaleo! ¡Muchachas, jaleo! ¿Quien me compra jilo negro?

"Mi caballo está cansao, Y yo me marcho corriendo. ¡Anda, caballito mio,

Majestic spirit of the night, I recognize thee! Thou hast conjured up this glorious vision for thy votary. Thou hast baptized me with thy baptism. Thou hast nourished my soul with fervent thoughts and holy aspirations, and ardent longings after the beautiful and the true. Majestic spirit of the past, I recognize thee! Thou hast bid the shadow go back for me upon the dial-plate of time. Thou hast taught me to read in thee the present and the future, — a revelation of man's destiny on earth. Thou hast taught me to see in thee the principle that unfolds itself from century to century in the progress of our race, the in whose germ bosom lie unfolded the bud, the leaf, the tree. Generations perish, like the leaves of the forest, passing away when their mission is completed; but at each succeeding spring, broader and higher spreads the human mind unto its perfect stature, unto the fulfilment of its destiny, unto the perfection of its nature. And in these high revelations, thou hast taught me more,thou hast taught me to feel that I, too, weak, humble, and unknown, feeble of purpose and irresolute of good, have something to accomplish upon earth, like the falling leaf, like the passing wind, like the drop of rain. O glorious thought! that lifts me above the power

Caballo mio careto! ¡Anda, que viene la ronda, Y se mueve el tiroteo! ¡Ay, jaleo! ¡Ay, ay, jaleo! ¡Ay, jaleo, que nos cortan! Sácame de aqueste aprieto.

"Mi caballo ya no corre, Ya mi caballo paró. Todo para en este mundo, Tambien he de parar yo. ¡Ay, jaleo! ¡Muchachas, jaleo! ¿Quien me compra jilo negro?"

of time and chance, and tells me that I cannot pass away, and leave no mark of my existence. I may not know the purpose of my being,the end for which an all-wise Providence created me as I am, and placed me where I am; but I do know-for in such things faith is knowledge that my being has a purpose in the omniscience of my Creator, and that all my actions tend to the completion, to the full accomplishment of that purpose. Is this fatality? No. I feel that I am free, though an infinite

These are manifestations of the human mind at a remote period of its history, and among a people who came from another clime, the children of the desert. Their mission is accomplished, and they are gone; yet leaving behind them a thousand records of themselves and of their ministry, not as yet fully manifest, but "seen through a glass darkly," dimly shadowed forth in the language, and character, and manners, and history of the nation, that was by turns the conquered and the conquering. The

and invisible power overrules me. Man proposes, and God disposes. This is one of the many mysteries in our being which human reason cannot find out by searching.

Yonder towers, that stand so huge and massive in the midnight air, the work of human hands that have long since forgotten their cunning in the grave, and once the home of human beings immortal as ourselves, and filled like us with hopes and fears, and powers of good and ill, are lasting memorials of their builders; inanimate material forms, yet living with the impress of a creative mind. These are landmarks of other times. Thus from the distant past the history of the human race is telegraphed from generation to generation, through the present to all succeeding ages.