Although greatly fallen from its ancient splendor, Santiago, formerly the capital of Galicia, and now the simple chief town of a judicial circuit, still has importance in the ecclesiastical order. Her archbishop is, by right, the first chaplain of the crown, and her cathedral still subsists in its integrity. She has two collegiate and fifteen parochial churches, though her numerous convents, pillaged in 1807, and subsequently despoiled and suppressed, are at the present time inhabited dwelling-houses, destined to inevitable ruin, and throwing an additional shadow into the general air of melancholy which now hangs over this old city. There are but few public buildings of antiquity or interest. The streets, with their dark and narrow archways, all start, like the threads of a spider’s web, from the one centre occupied by the cathedral. Everything wears an aspect that is sombre, damp, and cold, augmented by the hue that the granite, of which most of the edifices are built, takes under a climate of such humidity that it has given rise to the disrespectful saying that this city is the sink of Spain. And yet the site is picturesque. Seen from the neighboring heights, Santiago, itself also built upon an elevation, with its ancient buildings, walls, and towers, presents a very striking appearance, and to any one who mounts the towers of the cathedral the grand girdle of mountains encircling the horizon affords a spectacle that well repays the trouble of the ascent. We are in the great square, and facing the western front, containing the principal entrance of the building, which occupies the middle of a long architectural line, having at its left the episcopal palace, melancholy enough and not in any way remarkable, and at its right the cloister, with its turrets and pyramidal roofs, and its long row of arched windows. This is not the cloister of Gemirez, of which nothing remains, but was built in the sixteenth century by Archbishop Fonseca, who furnished it with a fine library, and also added the chapter-house and other dependencies of the cathedral. The cloister is one of the largest in Spain, half Gothic in style, and half Renaissance. This western entrance, between the cloister and the palace, is called _El Mayor_ or _El Real_—the great or royal entrance; not that it merits the title from any particular artistic beauty, but rather from a certain effective arrangement. The four flights of steps, two large and two small, ascend very picturesquely from the square to the doors of the cathedral, allowing a procession to spread into four lines, while above rise the lofty towers, curiously adorned with columns, vases, balustrades, and little cupolas. You see at once that you are not beholding a work which dates from the construction of the building, although the towers are ancient up to the height of the church walls, but the upper portion is much more recent, and the same is evident of the façade, which occupies the space between the towers.