The soil around the city never rests. There is no waste of land. Oranges and pomegranates grow profusely. The cactus is cultivated for the production of the cochineal insect. Clovers yield several cuttings each year in this fecund territory. In the neighbouring mountains there are rich veins of marble, and jasper and amethyst are found. Yet the mining industry in the Sierra Nevada remains to be developed. The Granadines are hardly a commercial population, though numerous crafts are practised in their city. Factories for the production of sugar from beetroot have been erected in recent years, and it is hoped that this industry will increase. [Illustration: GRANADA--FROM THE GENERALIFE] The life of Granada in its lighter aspects can be well studied on the promenade of the Salón, one of the most beautiful parades in Europe. Here, under the shade of luxuriant trees, amid handsome fountains, and by parterres decked richly with many flowers, the people of the city stroll upon summer evenings after the great heat of the day. From the Salón you gain a superb view of the purple Sierra Nevada, which at sunset wears a wealth of changing hues. A walk along the promenade precedes the evening gathering in the patios of the houses of the upper and middle classes, when to the sound of guitar and the rattle of castanets, young and old dance together. At these tertulia, or evening parties, singing alternates with dancing the bolero and the jota. And later, when the lights are dim, and the watchman tramps slowly through the streets, you see the lovers, the "novios" waiting beneath the windows of the adored fair ones, or lightly strumming serenades on their guitars. At festival times the city is all animation. The anniversary of the taking of Granada is celebrated on January 2, when a procession is formed and proceeds to the Cathedral. Corpus Christi is another feast day, and there are two fairs during the year, one in June and the other in September. But it is Granada of the past rather than of the present that holds us during a sojourn in the city of hills and vistas. It is the scene of dreams, a city of meditation. You court serenity rather than hilarity amid these haunted streets and silent ruins. The Arabs had a saying, referring to one who was sad, "He is thinking of Granada." It is this spirit, perhaps, which prevails in the patios of the Alhambra and amid the orange trees of the Generalife Gardens. And yet it is not true depression. It is a sense of the glory that has been, a meditativeness which is induced by the somnolence of the scene, and fostered by the languorous atmosphere of the South.