po ed in its train constructed their palaces in the open space, to the east, so that the Puerta del sol, from having been the extremity, became the centre of Madrid. Go where you will, almost, you pass through the Puerta del sol, for here you can choose a street that will lead you directly to the place of which you are in search; and put yourself in any street in the extremity of the city it is sure to discharge you here. In this way all Madrid passes daily through this place of general out. pouring, and here a stranger may pass in review the whole capital. Here the exchange is each day held and the merchant comes to talk of his affairs; the litician wrapped in his cloak whispers his news; old women with oranges and pomegranates pass with their baskets; and the sturdy beggars demand alms in the name of Maria Santissima. Here too may be seen all the costumes of Spain; the long red cap of the Catalan; the Valencian with his blanket and airy bragas, though in the midst of winter; Montero cap of the Manchego; the leathern cuirass of the old Castilian ; the trunk hose of the Leones; the coarse garb of the Gallego; and the round hat of Andalusia.- -At one moment, a regiment of the royal guard passes to review, in the next the trumpet sounds, and the drums of the neighboring piquets are heard beating the call.-The coaches and six approach, guarded by a splendid accompaniment. The cry of "Los Reges," passes from mouth to mouth; and the Spaniards, unrolling their cloaks and doffing their hats, give place for the absolute king.-Presently a bell rings, and every voice is hushed. A long procession of men with each a burning taper, is seen preceding a priest who is carrying the reconciling sacrament to smooth the death bed of some repenting sinner. Does it meet a carriage though containing the first grandee of Spain, the owner descends, throws himself upon his knees in the middle of the street, and allows the host to pass. Su majested,' his majesty, to indicate the presence of the SAVIOUR sacramentized,* passes in a tremulous whisper from lip to lip. The faithful are all uncovered and kneeling; they We need hardly remind our readers that in the Catholic religion, the Savior is believed to be actually present, in the consecrated elements of the sacrament, smite their breasts with contrition, and hold down their heads as if unworthy to look upon the Lamb. The palaces of the high nobility are built in a quadrangular form, with a square in the centre. The mass of the dwelling-houses, however, are built much in our own way. But they have rather a prison look, for the windows of the first floor are grated with bars of iron; whilst the stout door of wood, well studded with spike heads, has more the appearance of the gate of a fortified town, than of the entrance to the dwelling of a peaceable citizen. These precautions are rendered necessary by the number and boldness of the robbers of Madrid. Madrid has one hundred and forty-six temples for worship, including collegiate and parish churches, convents, oratorios, chapels and hermitages. Among this number, are sixty-two convents for monks and nuns. It has besides, eighteen hospitals, thirteen colleges, fifteen academies, four public libraries, six prisons, fifteen gates of granite, eighty five squares and places, and fifty public fountains, which supply the inhabitants with delightful water brought from mountain springs thirty miles from the city.-But by far the noblest edifice in Madrid is the royal palace. It consists of a hollow square four hundred and seventy feet on the outside, and one hundred and forty within. Within is a collonnade and gallery running entirely round the square, and without, a judicious distribution of windows, cornices and columns, unencumbered by redundant ornaments, except, indeed, in the heavy balustrade which crowns the whole. The construction of this palace is of the noblest and most durable kind, being without any wood except in the frame of the roof and the doors and windows. The palace is indeed a noble one. It is said by those who have visited the chief capitals of Europe that they have seen none superior to it. When we look for the local advantages of Madrid, we are at a loss to conceive how it ever became a great city. The surrounding country is so little adapted to pastoral or argricultural pursuits, that meats and fruits and almost all the necessaries of life are brought from the extremities of the Kingdom. These supplies of fish come on the backs of mules from the Atlantic and Me diterranean; cattle from Asturias and Gallicia, and fruit from the distant orchards of Andalusia and Valencia. With these disadvantages, manufactures can never flourish in Madrid; and, as to commerce, the mountains which form its barriers on the north and west, check its communications with half the peninsula, whilst the insignificant stream of Manzarares furnishes no facilities of transportation; none of any sort, indeed, except a supply of water for the accommodation of the washerwomen. But though accident or caprice have alone given birth to Madrid, and though a city raised to wealth and power must necessarily relapse into insignificance, when the interests of the whole and not the will of one shall regulate the affairs of Spain, yet it is not the less a great city. It is nearly eight miles in circumference, and contains a population of one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. Madrid owes all its present magnificence to Charles the third. Under his care the royal palaces were finished; the custom house, the post office, the museum and royal painting office were constructed, the academy of the three noble arts improved, the cabinet of natural history, the botanic garden, the national bank and many gratuitous schools established; while convenient roads leading from the city, and delightful walks planted with trees and adorned by statues and fountains combine to announce his paternal solicitude. For a fuller account of Madrid and Spain in general, we would refer our readers to a most interesting work, entitled, "A Year in Spain, by a Young American," to which we are principally indebted for the materials of the present sketches. THE GOD OF NATURE. Lift your views to that immense arch of heaven which encompasses you above.-Behold the sun in all its splendor rolling over your head by day, and the moon by night, in mild and serene majesty surrounded with that host of stars which present to the imagination an innumerable multitude of worlds. Listen to the awful voice of thunder. Listen to the roar of the tempest and the ocean-Survey the wonders that fill the earth which you inhabit. Contemplate a steady and powerful hand, bringing round spring and summer, autumn and winter, in regular course; decorating this earth with innumerable inhabitants, pouring forth comforts on all that live, and at the same time, overawing the nations with the violence of the elements, when it pleases the Creator to let them forth. After you have viewed yourself as surrounded with such a scene of wonders-after you have beheld on every hand, such an interesting display of majesty united with wisdom and goodness-are you not seized with solemn and serious awe ?-Is there not something that whispers within, that to this Creator homage and reverence are due by all the rational beings whom he made? Admitted to be spectators of his works, placed in the midst of so many great and interesting objects, can you believe that you were brought here for no purpose, but to immerse yourselves in brutal, or at best, in trifling pleasures; lost to all sense of the wonders you behold; lost to all reverence to that God who gave you being, and who has erected this amazing fabric of nature, on which you look only with stupid and unmeaning eyes?-Now let the scenes which you behold prompt correspondent feelings. Let them awaken you from the degrading intoxication of licentiousness, into nobler emotions. Every object which you view in nature, whether great or small serves to instruct you. The stars and the insect, the fiery meteor and flowing spring, the verdant field and the lofty mountain, all exhibit a Supreme Power, before which you ought to tremble and adore, all preach the doctrine, all inspire the spirit of devotion and reverence. Regarding, then, the work of the Lord, let rising emotions of awe and gratitude call forth from your souls such sentiments as these:-" -"Lord, wherever I am, and whatever I enjoy, may I never forget thee, as the author of nature! May I never forget that I am thy creature and thy subject! In this magnificent temple of the universe, where thou hast placed me, may I ever be thy faithful worshiper, and may the reverence and fear of God be the first sentiment of my heart." OUR NATIVE HOME. There is no trait, perhaps, more common, or more amiable in the human character, than the attachment which each individual feels for his native country. When separated from kindred and from friends, he sighs in a far distant land from the place of his birth, with what resistless, tender and soul subduing influence does the remembrance of past scenes and pleasures rush upon his mind? His native hills and valleys, the bubbling brook, the groves, the meadows, and the fields, which witnessed the innocence and sportings of his youthful years, arise before his imagination, arrayed in all their beauty. The lonely invalid looks back with tender affection to the sacred spot where repose the slumbering ashes of his departed kindred. In the chaste and pious meditation, he feels a pleasurable melancholy steal over his soul which he would not exchange for all the sparkling joys of transient and unsubstantial amusements. But awakening from his pleasing reveries, he finds that he is in a distant country. In vain he looks around for the friends and companions of his youthfor all is sad, lonely and disconsolate. Tell him not that the gales which fan him are perfumed with odors, that the gentle zephyr brings health and balm on its wings, that roses and jessamines fill the soft air with fragrance, and that the verdant mantle of nature is spangled with flowers of the richest dyes. For neither the spicy gales, the balmy breath of the gentle zephyr, nor the roses, nor jessamines, nor nature's fairest livery, equal the air, the beauty and enchantment of his native land; to him the whispers of domestic love, tenderness, and affection, are more grateful and soothing, than the gentle fannings of the south wind, or the spicy breeze. To him, more pleasing would be the sight of his paterna mansion, though hung with icicles, and surrounded with the desolate emblems of winter, than the beauty and verdure which surrounded him in a distant nation. E'en the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar, His thoughts turn to the valued friends he has left be |