Come, then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my steps into this
vestibule ornamented with rich tracery, which opens to the hall of
Ambassadors. We will not enter the hall, however, but turn to the left,
to this small door, opening in the wall. Have a care! here are steep
winding steps and but scanty light. Yet, up this narrow, obscure and
winding staircase the proud monarchs of Granada and their queens have
often ascended to the battlements of the tower to watch the approach of
Christian armies or to gaze on the battles in the Vega. At length we are
upon the terraced roof, and may take breath for a moment, while we cast
a general eye over the splendid panorama of city and country, of rocky
mountain, verdant valley and fertile plain; of castle, cathedral,
Moorish towers and Gothic domes, crumbling ruins and blooming groves.

Let us approach the battlements and cast our eyes immediately below.
See--on this side we have the whole plan of the Alhambra laid open to
us, and can look down into its courts and gardens. At the foot of the
tower is the Court of the Alberca with its great tank or fish-pool
bordered with flowers; and yonder is the Court of Lions, with its famous
fountain, and its light Moorish arcades; and in the center of the pile
is the little garden of Lindaraxa, buried in the heart of the building,
with its roses and citrons and shrubbery of emerald green.

That belt of battlements studded with square towers, straggling round
the whole brow of the hill, is the outer boundary of the fortress. Some
of the towers, you may perceive, are in ruins, and their massive
fragments are buried among vines, fig-trees and aloes.

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a giddy height;
the very foundations of the tower rise above the groves of the steep
hillside. And see, a long fissure in the massive walls shows that the
tower has been rent by some of the earthquakes which from time to time
have thrown Granada into consternation; and which, sooner or later, must
reduce this crumbling pile to a mere mass of ruin. The deep, narrow glen
below us, which gradually widens as it opens from the mountains, is the
valley of the Darro; you see the little river winding its way under
embowered terraces and among orchards and flower gardens. It is a stream
famous in old times for yielding gold, and its sands are still sifted
occasionally in search of the precious ore. Some of those white
pavilions which here and there gleam