. Well-worn roads of Spain, Holland, and Italy : travelled by a painter in search of the picturesque. a lock, the greatdoor swung open, and let in the sunlight,the hot air, and the sacristan. Had I been disturbed ? Yes, the sefio-rita. He looked startled. Through which door ? Ah ! yes ; fromthe Archbishops. He had heard about was very sad. The poor senorita, andshe so beautiful! But is there no hope ? No, mi amigo ; he was shot at day-light. EL PUERTA DEL VINO. ALHAMBRA(GRANADA) The legends say-that the Moorish kingsstored their choicestwine in the cellars be-neath this curious oldarchwa
. Well-worn roads of Spain, Holland, and Italy : travelled by a painter in search of the picturesque. a lock, the greatdoor swung open, and let in the sunlight,the hot air, and the sacristan. Had I been disturbed ? Yes, the sefio-rita. He looked startled. Through which door ? Ah ! yes ; fromthe Archbishops. He had heard about was very sad. The poor senorita, andshe so beautiful! But is there no hope ? No, mi amigo ; he was shot at day-light. EL PUERTA DEL VINO. ALHAMBRA(GRANADA) The legends say-that the Moorish kingsstored their choicestwine in the cellars be-neath this curious oldarchway. It was blaz-ing away this morningat a white heat undera Spanish sun andagainst a china-bluesky, and it shelterednot the juice of the grape, but an aguadorand two donkeys. All three were asleep,— the water-carrier on his back, and thepatient, tired little beasts propped upagainst each other. They had climbed the long hill of theAlhambra very many times since sunrise,and the water-jars had been often filled thatday, and as often emptied into thirsty vil-lagers in the plain below. They had re-. w El Pueria del Vino freshed everybody but themselves. Nowit was their turn. So they dozed away, andI continued painting. If their green jars had contained wine Ishould have had no use for it. No water-color painter does. But water, pure water,began to be valuable ; my bottle was empty,and the well some distance off. It wascruel to disturb them, but after all I amonly human. Agua? Si, seiior. Theaguador sprang to his feet, the donkeyslazily opened their eyes, a simultaneousconvulsive movement of long ears andshort tails, and the procession moved downout into the glare, and halted outside of myumbrella. A glass wet and held high, glistening inthe sunlight, a shower of diamond dropsthrown in a circle, a gurgling sound from acool jar, and, with the bow of an Hidalgo,the aguador handed me that most blessedof all drinks, — cool water in a hot dropped a copper into his outstretchedh
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1887
