with reverence, that the ignorant and ruffian soldiery viewed the exquisite beauty of the Great Mosque,--the shrine which, venerated as a sanctuary, had invited the pilgrimage of the devout of distant nations; the temple which had been enriched by the emulous munificence of the most opulent and polished princes of Europe; the edifice which, alone of all the marvellous architectural creations of the Hispano-Arab age of gold, had survived intact the fury of religious discord, the tumult of revolution, the extinction of dynasties, the destruction of empires. Amidst the vicissitudes of invasion, conquest, and revolt, a veneration akin to idolatry had always invested the Djalma of Abd-al-Rahman. The exterior still glowed with the warm and brilliant coloring of the Orient. The court-yard still exhibited in its diversified horticulture the capricious taste of the Andalusian gardener. Inside, the presence of the myriads of pious worshippers who had trodden its interminable aisles in the course of five eventful centuries had left few permanent traces. The pattern of the elegant pavement was partially effaced. Within the Mihrab--the centre of the little sanctuary which looked towards the temple of Mecca--a channel deeply worn in the marble floor indicated where countless pilgrims, in imitation of the ceremonies of the Kaaba, had seven times made its circuit on their knees. These, however, were the sole but eloquent testimonials of the continuous devotion of fifteen generations. The walls were hung with that richly embossed and decorated leather whose name indicated the Ommeyade capital as the place of its invention and manufacture. The ceiling sparkled in the semi-obscurity with its gilded pendentives and silver stars. Upon the arches of the Mihrab appeared in untarnished beauty the dazzling mosaics which had been the pride of the Byzantine artisan. The treasures of the mosque, the mimbar, or pulpit, the chandeliers, lamps, and censers, were all, save one, in their accustomed places. The most precious object of Moslem reverence, the Koran of Othman, regarded as the talisman of Spain, had been carried away to Africa by the Almohade monarch, Abd-al-Mumen, and with its departure, according to the superstitious belief of the devout, had vanished the last warrant of the security of Moslem power. That ornament of the Mihrab--the relic stained with the blood of a martyred khalif, the first of a race whose martial energy and literary endowments were destined to dignify and honor the royalty of Islam--was now in the hands of foreign and inappreciative barbarians. From the ceiling were suspended the bells of the church of Santiago, placed there by the great Al-Mansur, significant trophies of the victorious career of that most renowned of Moorish commanders. But once before in its history had this splendid temple, which, in public estimation, was inferior in holiness only to the mosques of Mecca and Jerusalem, been desecrated by the presence of the infidel.