a crowded market-place. From thence we proceeded along the Zacatin,
the main street of what, in the time of the Moors, was the Great
Bazaar, where the small shops and narrow allies still retain the
Oriental character. Crossing an open place in front of the palace of
the captain-general, we ascended a confined and winding street, the
name of which reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. It is
called the Calle, or street of the Gomeres, from a Moorish family
famous in chronicle and song. This street led up to a massive gateway
of Grecian architecture, built by Charles V. forming the entrance to
the domains of the Alhambra.

"At the gate were two or three ragged and superannuated soldiers,
dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris and the
Abencerrages; while a tall meagre varlet, whose rusty-brown cloak was
evidently intended to conceal the ragged state of his nether garments,
was lounging in the sunshine and gossiping with an ancient sentinel on
duty. He joined us as we entered the gate, and offered his services to
show us the fortress.

"I have a traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did
not-altogether like the garb of the applicant.

"'You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?'

"'Ninguno mas; pues Senor, soy hijo de la Alhambra.'--(Nobody better;
in fact, Sir, I am a son of the Alhambra!)

"The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way of expressing
themselves. 'A son of the Alhambra!' the appellation caught me at
once; the very tattered garb of my new acquaintance assumed a dignity