We kept close enough to the coast of Spain never to lose sight of it; but the coast of Africa had, in consequence of the widening of the Mediterranean, long since disappeared from the horizon. On one side, therefore, our view consisted of long rows of bluish cliffs, with curiously-formed steeps, full of perpendicular cracks, and marked, here and there, with white spots, announcing the presence of a little village, a watch-tower, or a custom-house officer's hut; and, on the other, of the boundless sea, now ruffled and goffered by the breeze or tide, now of a dull blue and dead colour, or as transparent as crystal, and then brilliant and undulating, like the basquina of a dancing-girl, while at other times it was opaque, oily, and as grey as mercury or melted lead; forming altogether a variety of tones, and assuming such various aspects as would throw any poet or painter into utter despair. A procession of red, white, and other light-coloured sails, of ships of every size and nation, enlivened the scene, and took away that melancholy which ever attends infinite solitude. A sea in which no sail is visible, is the most sad and dispiriting spectacle that any one can well behold. Fancy not one thought on so large an extent of space, not one soul to comprehend all the sublimity contained therein! And yet, only place one white and almost imperceptible speck on this fathomless and unbounded main, and its immensity will be peopled; it will then contain an interest, a drama. Cartagena, which is called _Cartagena de Levante_, to distinguish it from Cartagena in America, is situated at the end of a bay, a sort of funnel of rocks, where ships find complete shelter from every wind. Its form has nothing picturesque about it; the deepest impressions produced on us there were made by two windmills, decorated with black drawings on a light sky-blue ground.