The entrance to Ecija is rather picturesque. You pass over a bridge, at the end of which is a gateway like a triumphal arch. This bridge is thrown over a river, which is no other than the Genil of Granada, and which is obstructed by ancient arches and milldams. When you have passed the bridge, you find yourself in an open square, planted with trees, and ornamented with two rather strange monuments. The first is a gilt statue of the Holy Virgin, placed upon a column, the pedestal of which evidently forms a kind of chapel, decorated with pots of artificial flowers, votive offerings, crowns formed of the pith of rushes, and all the other gewgaws of Meridional devotion. The second is a gigantic Saint Christopher, also of gilt metal, with his hand resting upon a palm-tree, a sort of walking-stick in keeping with his immense size; on his shoulder he bears, with the most prodigious contraction of all his muscles, and with as great an effort as if he were raising a house, an exceedingly small infant Jesus, of the most delicate and charming style. This colossus, said to be the work of the Florentine sculptor, Torregiano, who flattened, with a blow of his fist, Michael Angelo's nose, is stuck upon a Solomonic column (as wreathed columns are here called) of light, rose-coloured granite, the spiral wreaths of which end half-way up in a mass of volutes and extravagant flower-work. I am very partial to statues placed in this position; they produce a greater effect, and are seen advantageously at a longer distance. The ordinary pedestals have a kind of flat, massive look, which takes away from the lightness of the figures which they support. Although Ecija lies out of the ordinary route of tourists, and is generally but little known, it is a very interesting town, and very original and peculiar in its appearance. The spires which form the sharper angles in its outline are neither Byzantine, nor Gothic, nor in the Renaissance style; they are Chinese, or rather Japanese, and you might easily mistake them for the turrets of some _miao_ dedicated to Kong-fu-Tzee, Buddha, or Fo; for the walls are entirely covered with porcelain tiles of the most vivid tints, while the roofs are formed of varnished white and green tiles, arranged like the squares of a chessboard, and presenting one of the most curious sights in the world. The rest of the buildings are not less chimerical. The love of distorted lines is carried to the utmost possible lengths. You see nothing but gilding, incrustation, breccia, and various-coloured marbles, rumpled about as if they were cloth and not stone, garlands of flowers, lovers'-knots, and bloated angels, all coloured and painted in the most profuse manner and sublime bad taste.