ies of the town-side of the
hill, immediately above the level of the highest-placed houses now
existing, two Arab gate-ways give access through the ancient town-walls,
which ascended the hill from the bottom. Between these there exists a
sort of flat natural terrace, above the town, and running along its
whole length, on to which some of the streets open. On this narrow level
stood formerly a part, probably the best part, of the city, which has
shared the fate of its protecting fortress; but, not being rebuilt, it
is now an empty space,--or would be so, but for the recent erection of a
cemetery, placed at about half the distance between the two extremities.

Before, however, the lapse of years had worn away the last surviving
recollections of these localities, some worshipper of by-gone glory
succeeded in discovering, on the now grass-grown space, the situations
once occupied by the respective abodes of the Cid and of Fernan
Gonzalez. On these spots monuments have been erected. That of Gonzalez
is a handsome arch, the piers supporting which are each faced with two
pillars of the Doric order on either side; above the cornice there is a
balustrade, over which four small obelisks correspond with the
respective pillars. The arch is surmounted by a sort of pedestal, on
which is carved an inscription, stating the object of the monument.
There is nothing on the top of the pedestal, which appears to have been
intended for the reception of a statue.

The monument in memory of the Cid is more simple. It consists of three
small pyramids in a row, supported on low bases or pedestals; that in
the centre higher than the other two, but not exceeding (inclusive of
the base) twenty feet from the ground. On the lower part of the centre
stone is carved an appropriate inscription, abounding in ellipsis, after
the manner usually adopted in Spain.

It is not surprising that these monuments, together with the memory of
the events brought about by the men in whose honour they have been
erected, should be fast hastening to a level with the desolation
immediately surrounding them. The present political circumstances of
Spain are not calculated to favour the retrospection of by-gone glories.
Scarcely is time allowed--so rapidly are executed the transmutations of
the modern political diorama--for examining the events, or even for
recovery from the shock, of each succeeding revolution; nor force
remaining to the exhausted organs of admiration or