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lay bound in magic spell； and whence they sallied forth at night； at
allotted times； to revisit their ancient abodes。
〃Ah； senor； this mountain is full of wonders of the kind。 In another
place there was a hole somewhat like this； and just within it hung
an iron pot by a chain； nobody knew what was in that pot； for it was
always covered up； but every body supposed it full of Moorish gold。
Many tried to draw it forth； for it seemed just within reach； but
the moment it was touched it would sink far； far down； and not come up
again for some time。 At last one who thought it must be enchanted
touched it with the cross； by way of breaking the charm； and faith
he did break it； for the pot sank out of sight and never was seen
any more。
〃All this is fact； senor； for my grandfather was an eye…witness。〃
〃What！ Mateo； did he see the pot？〃
〃No； senor； but he saw the hole where the pot had hung。〃
〃It's the same thing； Mateo。〃
The deepening twilight； which； in this climate； is of short
duration； admonished us to leave this haunted ground。 As we
descended the mountain defile； there was no longer herdsman nor
muleteer to be seen； nor any thing to be heard but our own footsteps
and the lonely chirping of the cricket。 The shadows of the valley grew
deeper and deeper； until all was dark around us。 The lofty summit of
the Sierra Nevada alone retained a lingering gleam of daylight； its
snowy peaks glaring against the dark blue firmament； and seeming close
to us； from the extreme purity of the atmosphere。
〃How near the Sierra looks this evening！〃 said Mateo； 〃it seems as
if you could touch it with your hand； and yet it is many long
leagues off。〃 While he was speaking； a star appeared over the snowy
summit of the mountain； the only one yet visible in the heavens； and
so pure； so large； so bright and beautiful； as to call forth
ejaculations of delight from honest Mateo。
〃Que estrella hermosa！ que clara y limpia es！… No pueda ser estrella
mas brillante！〃 （〃What a beautiful star！ how clear and lucid… a star
could not be more brilliant！〃）
I have often remarked this sensibility of the common people of Spain
to the charms of natural objects。 The lustre of a star； the beauty
or fragrance of a flower； the crystal purity of a fountain； will
inspire them with a kind of poetical delight； and then； what
euphonious words their magnificent language affords； with which to
give utterance to their transports！
〃But what lights are those； Mateo； which I see twinkling along the
Sierra Nevada； just below the snowy region； and which might be taken
for stars； only that they are ruddy； and against the dark side of
the mountain？〃
〃Those； senor； are fires； made by the men who gather snow and ice
for the supply of Granada。 They go up every afternoon with mules and
asses； and take turns； some to rest and warm themselves by the
fires； while others fill the panniers with ice。 They then set off down
the mountains； so as to reach the gates of Granada before sunrise。
That Sierra Nevada； senor； is a lump of ice in the middle of
Andalusia； to keep it all cool in summer。〃
It was now completely dark； we were passing through the barranco；
where stood the cross of the murdered muleteer； when I beheld a number
of lights moving at a distance； and apparently advancing up the
ravine。 On nearer approach； they proved to be torches borne by a train
of uncouth figures arrayed in black： it would have been a procession
dreary enough at any time； but was peculiarly so in this wild and
solitary place。
Mateo drew near； and told me； in a low voice； that it was a
funeral train bearing a corpse to the burying…ground among the hills。
As the procession passed by； the lugubrious light of the torches；
falling on the rugged features and funeral…weeds of the attendants；
had the most fantastic effect； but was perfectly ghastly； as it
revealed the countenance of the corpse； which； according to the
Spanish custom； was borne uncovered on an open bier。 I remained for
some time gazing after the dreary train as it wound up the dark defile
of the mountain。 It put me in mind of the old story of a procession of
demons bearing the body of a sinner up the crater of Stromboli。
〃Ah！ senor；〃 cried Mateo； 〃I could tell you a story of a
procession once seen among these mountains； but then you'd laugh at
me； and say it was one of the legacies of my grandfather the tailor。〃
〃By no means； Mateo。 There is nothing I relish more than a
marvellous tale。〃
〃Well； senor； it is about one of those very men we have been talking
of； who gather snow on the Sierra Nevada。
〃You must know； that a great many years since； in my grandfather's
time； there was an old fellow； Tio Nicolo （Uncle Nicholas） by name；
who had filled the panniers of his mule with snow and ice； and was
returning down the mountain。 Being very drowsy； he mounted upon the
mule； and soon falling asleep； went with his head nodding and
bobbing about from side to side； while his surefooted old mule stepped
along the edge of precipices； and down steep and broken barrancos；
just as safe and steady as if it had been on plain ground。 At
length； Tio Nicolo awoke； and gazed about him； and rubbed his eyes…
and； in good truth； he had reason。 The moon shone almost as bright
as day； and he saw the city below him； as plain as your hand； and
shining with its white buildings； like a silver platter in the
moonshine； but； Lord！ senor； it was nothing like the city he had
left a few hours before！ Instead of the cathedral； with its great dome
and turrets； and the churches with their spires； and the convents with
their pinnacles； all surmounted with the blessed cross； he saw nothing
but Moorish mosques； and minarets； and cupolas； all topped off with
glittering crescents； such as you see on the Barbary flags。
〃Well； senor； as you may suppose； Tio Nicolo was mightily puzzled at
all this； but while he was gazing down upon the city； a great army
came marching up the mountains； winding along the ravines； sometimes
in the moonshine sometimes in the shade。 As it drew nigh； he saw
that there were horse and foot all in Moorish armor。 Tio Nicolo
tried to scramble out of their way； but his old mule stood stock
still； and refused to budge； trembling； at the same time； like a leaf…
for dumb beasts； senor； are just as much frightened at such things
as human beings。 Well； senor； the hobgoblin army came marching by；
there were men that seemed to blow trumpets； and others to beat
drums and strike cymbals； yet never a sound did they make； they all
moved on without the least noise； just as I have seen painted armies
move across the stage in the theatre of Granada； and all looked as
pale as death。 At last； in the rear of the army； between two black
Moorish horsemen； rode the Grand Inquisitor of Granada； on a mule as
white as snow。 Tio Nicolo wondered to see him in such company； for the
Inquisitor was famous for his hatred of Moors； and indeed； of all
kinds of In