ITS PUBLIC

CEMETERY.

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It was some days after this, that I went with the American Consul, Mr. J. Somers Smith, from whom and whose family we received many kindnesses during our stay in Malaga, to visit the city cemetery. A pleasant winding road conducted us to it from the city gates, between rows of olive trees, and little orange and lemon groves. I was surprised at the splendor of the monuments, as compared with those of the cemeteries of Madrid. The lords of commerce, in Malaga, sleep in far more sumptuous sepulchres than the Castilian nobility. Over the space enclosed by the thick walls of the cemetery are scattered tombs in the form of chapels, urns or massive pedestals, marble statues on columns of costly workmanship, and elaborate sculptures in relief. The walks, at the time I was there, were bordered with roses and other choice plants, in bloom, carefully tended.

As we stood in the centre of the grounds, admiring the prospect it showed us, the beautiful undulations of the surrounding country-its airy eminences and sunny nooks, and the great ocean to the south-the American Consul remarked that this would be a most desirable region for country residences, if the neighborhood were but safe. "We live within the city walls," he continued, "for the sake of security. If we have country seats, they are always in danger of the visits of robbers."

This is, in fact, the cause which prevents those who enrich themselves by the growing commerce of Malaga, and who build for their families these stately sepulchres among roses and geraniums, from covering the heights around the

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city with beautiful country seats. The mildness of the winter climate allows the cultivation of almost any tropical plant to which one may take a fancy; indeed, the winter is the season of bloom and verdure. They might embower their dwellings with the palm and the orange, and twenty other beautiful trees, which require a climate where the frost never falls, and the vapors of the air never curdle into snow.

"It was but a little while since," said a resident of Malaga to me, "that we were really afraid to go into the country, except to travel on the great roads which are watched by the civil guard. At that time there was a bandit who, with a few accomplices, haunted the region back of the city, and used to waylay and carry off such persons as he thought likely to bring a large ransom. A poor devil was, of course, not worth the catching, but a rich man or a rich man's son was a prize which was sure to reward his trouble. He would send word to the family of his captive, that on an appointed day he must have a certain sum of money, or a forefinger of their friend would be sent them; or perhaps a harsher message came, that his head would be laid at their door. At last he was shot-it was three or four weeks ago and his body was brought into town; I saw it; it was that of a man of middle size, but of great apparent hardihood and vigor. The wounds by which he died were given in such a manner, that he must have been shot while asleep. He had been a smuggler in his day; had been detected and imprisoned, and on getting his liberty, betook

A BOY CAPTIVE.

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himself to the profession of a robber. Since his death I have ventured into the country on a party of pleasure."

Some further particulars of this man's warfare upon society, I heard before I left Malaga. Not long before he was killed, he captured a boy just without the city gates, and caused his father to be informed that if within a certain time eleven thousand dollars were not deposited at a place named in the message, the boy's ears would be sent him. The money was deposited, and the boy restored to his family. He related that he was well cared for, and kindly treated; that he was taken blindfold from one place to another, among the solitary recesses of the mountains, and that only when they reached one of their lurking places, the robbers removed the bandage from his eyes. The name of the bandit whose story I have related-I believe I have it rightwas Manuel Diaz; the family name Diaz is very common in Spain, and figures in the history of the wars with the Moors. When I heard these accounts of the Andalusian bandit, I could not help thinking of what I had heard and seen in the East, nearly five years ago-of the dreaded robber of Lebanon, who infested the neighborhood of Beyrout, and was brought into the city a prisoner, while I was there; and of the fear which the inhabitants of Smyrna had of the outlaws in its environs, who held the city in a state of siege on the land side, so that no man of substance could venture to occupy his country place in one of the villages pleasantly seated on the declivities of the mountains.

At Malaga they make with great cleverness little images

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STATUETTES

OF

BAKED EARTH.

of baked earth, representing the different costumes seen in the south of Spain. The artist who at present enjoys the greatest reputation is José Cubero, though I believe he has his rivals. In his collection you see the majo and the maja, the Andalusian dandy and his mate; gipsey men and women; peasants of both sexes, on foot or on donkeys; young people dancing in holiday dresses, hidalgos on horseback wrapped in their ample cloaks; priests in their enormous hats; bandits of the mountains; soldiers; members of the civil guard, with their carbines, and I know not how many more. After the figures have been subjected to a strong heat, they come out of the oven with a clean, sharp outline and of a soft cream color; a workman then takes them, and with a pencil paints the hair, tints the eyes and face, stains the gaiters, tracing them with embroidery, and gives every part of the dress its proper hue. The spirit with which these little figures and groups are designed, and the skill and ingenuity with which they are executed, show a capacity for the plastic art which only needs due encouragement to raise it to something more noble.

WHILE at Malaga we went to pass a few days among the remains of Moorish splendor in the city of Grenada. A diligence goes out from Malaga on its way to that place at nine o'clock every night, in which we took places, accompanied by two persons of the family of the American consul, to whom we were indebted for much of the pleasure and interest of the journey. I have already said that the Spaniards like to begin their journeys in the night. A diligence was not long since established which set out for Grenada in the morning, but this departure from old usages met with little favor, and was soon given up.

I shall long remember the journey of that night. It was a soft mild evening, and the moon flooded the whole region with brightness. Our vehicle climbed the mountains north of Malaga, steep beyond steep, while the lights of the city and its harbor were seen for a long time gleaming up from the edge of the ocean far below us. Half way up we passed the