The finest point of view in the neighbourhood of Granada, is not from the Alhambra; because the view must be imperfect, unless the Alhambra be itself one of the features. The chapel of St. Michael, upon the opposite height, is the spot to be attained; and to this little excursion, I devoted a morning. The hill upon which the chapel stands, is one labyrinth of aloes and Indian fig, which form an impenetrable thicket, unless where the zig-zag path is cut; and of so sturdy a growth are these, that the prospect towards the city and the Vega is entirely shut out. But this mount is curious and interesting on another account: every ten or twelve yards, you pass the exit of a narrow path cut through the aloes, and leading, a few yards forward, to the door, or rather the mouth of a hovel, excavated in the face of the hill. These habitations are tenanted by the very lowest of the population, as may well be believed; and I counted a hundred and forty of them. I requested permission to enter one, at the door of which, a young woman in rags, sat spinning flax; she told me that her husband was out with his gun seeking rabbits, and the only other inmate of the hovel, was a child, asleep upon a mattress on the ground. I saw no furniture, excepting two stools and this mattress, and the light found its way in, and the smoke its way out, at the entrance, to which there was no door; but the woman said, that before winter, they meant to supply this want; and that they also intended to construct a chimney, or, at least, a hole by which the smoke might escape. I noticed that some of the other hovels had chimneys, but I saw no one with a door. I was not sorry, when, after many times losing my way in this labyrinth, set upon by fierce hungry dogs, and meeting many suspicious-looking persons, I gained the summit of the mount, and an open space where I could see around me. The view was superb: in front stood the old Moorish town--on the left, lay the ravine of the Daro--and beyond it, the whole range of the Alhambra, with its towers, and walls, and arches, and pillars, and the rocky ridge upon which it stands, beautifully shaded and coloured by the woods, over which late autumn had thrown his rich and nameless tints: still higher, stood the Xeneralife; and above this range, the dark defiles and snowy summits of the Sierra, towered into the serene skies. The view was of a different character, looking towards the west: Stretching from the foot of the Alhambra, lay the city, with its many spires and towers, and all its groves and gardens; and still farther, was spread out the rich and fertile Vega, traversed by its winding rivers, and losing itself in the hazy distance. Not wishing to run the risk of losing myself again in the labyrinth of prickly pear, or to encounter the dogs--some of which owed me a grudge, for having threatened them with a stone--I succeeded in finding another road back to the city. In this walk, I could not but