tened to the rock rather than resting on it, and that a misstep on the dizzy uppermost level of the narrow, high-pitched streets would precipitate the unlucky one into the midst of some plaza three or four hundred feet below. A lovely, bewildering spot, full of lanes and archways, and winding, twisted market-places; with a rabble of picturesque people, selling every oddity under the sun, and a screen of matting; with a crossing and interlacing of narrow, paved ways, which give at every ten steps the effect of a kaleidoscope, with a vista of infinite beauty and novelty at each turning. The upper balconies of the many really beautiful houses were gay with bright awnings and marvellous flowers; the old church of the Jesuits was magnificent in fine arches of soft, pink stone, and wonderful carvings fine as strips of lace-work; the overhanging hills toppled against the deep blue sky wherever one turned, and through a hundred different arches, some vision of softly frescoed, slender-pillared inner courts, bright with blossoms and fresh with greenery, flashed out, no matter how swiftly one passed. From the flat roof of the castle or citadel, where long ago the beloved head of the
