called the hall of
Ambassadors. It still bears the traces of past magnificence. The walls
are richly stuccoed and decorated with arabesques, the vaulted ceilings
of cedar wood, almost lost in obscurity from its height, still gleam
with rich gilding and the brilliant tints of the Arabian pencil. On
three sides of the saloon are deep windows, cut through the immense
thickness of the walls, the balconies of which look down upon the
verdant valley of the Darro, the streets and convents of the Albaycin,
and command a prospect of the distant Vega. I might go on to describe
the other delightful apartments of this side of the palace; the Tocador
or toilet of the Queen, an open belvedere on the summit of the tower,
where the Moorish sultanas enjoyed the pure breezes from the mountain
and the prospect of the surrounding paradise; the secluded little patio
or garden of Lindaraxa, with its alabaster fountain, its thickets of
roses and myrtles, of citrons and oranges; the cool halls and grottoes
of the baths, where the glare and heat of the day are tempered into a
self-mysterious light and a pervading freshness.

An abundant supply of water, brought from the mountains by old Moorish
aqueducts, circulates throughout the palace, supplying its baths and
fish-pools, sparkling in jets within its halls, or murmuring in channels
along the marble pavements. When it has paid its tribute to the royal
pile, and visited its gardens and pastures, it flows down the long
avenue leading to the city, trinkling in rills, gushing in fountains,
and maintaining a perpetual verdure in those groves that embower and
beautify the whole hill of the Alhambra.

While the city below pants with the noon-tide heat, and the parched Vega
trembles to the eye, the delicate airs from the Sierra Nevada play
through the lofty halls, bringing with them the sweetness of the
surrounding gardens. Everything invites to that indolent repose, the
bliss of Southern climes; and while the half-shut eyes look out from
shaded balconies upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by the
rustling of groves and the murmur of running streams.

The reader has had a sketch of the interior of the Alhambra, and may be
desirous of a general idea of its vicinity. The morning is serene and
lovely; the sun has not gained sufficient power to destroy the freshness
of the night; we will mount to the summit of the tower of Comares, and
take a bird's-eye view of Granada and its environs.