ruins　of　Roman　palaces；　and　of　Moorish　fortresses；　were　around　and
  above　him；the　dark　and　heavy　thunder　clouds　that　advanced　slowly；
  seemed　like　the　shrouds　of　these　specters　of　departed　greatness；
  they　approached；　but　did　not　yet　overwhelm　or　conceal　them；　as　if
  Nature　herself　was　for　once　awed　by　the　power　of　man；　and　far
  below；　the　lovely　valley　of　Valencia　blushed　and　burned　in　all　the
  glory　of　sunset；　like　a　bride　receiving　the　last　glowing　kiss　of
  the　bridegroom　before　the　approach　of　night。　　Stanton　gazed　around。
  The　difference　between　the　architecture　of　the　Roman　and　Moorish
  ruins　struck　him。　　Among　the　former　are　the　remains　of　a　theater；
  and　something　like　a　public　place；　the　latter　present　only　the
  remains　of　fortresses；　embattled；　castellated；　and　fortified　from
  top　to　bottom；not　a　loophole　for　pleasure　to　get　in　by；the
  loopholes　were　only　for　arrows；　all　denoted　military　power　and
  despotic　subjugation　a　l'outrance。　　The　contrast　might　have　pleased
  a　philosopher；　and　he　might　have　indulged　in　the　reflection；　that
  though　the　ancient　Greeks　and　Romans　were　savages　（as　Dr。　Johnson
  says　all　people　who　want　a　press　must　be；　and　he　says　truly）；　yet
  they　were　wonderful　savages　for　their　time；　for　they　alone　have
  left　traces　of　their　taste　for　pleasure　in　the　countries　they
  conquered；　in　their　superb　theaters；　temples　（which　were　also
  dedicated　to　pleasure　one　way　or　another）；　and　baths；　while　other
  conquering　bands　of　savages　never　left　anything　behind　them　but
  traces　of　their　rage　for　power。　　So　thought　Stanton；　as　he　still
  saw　strongly　defined；　though　darkened　by　the　darkening　clouds；　the
  huge　skeleton　of　a　Roman　amphitheater；　its　arched　and　gigantic
  colonnades　now　admitting　a　gleam　of　light；　and　now　commingling　with
  the　purple　thunder　cloud；　and　now　the　solid　and　heavy　mass　of　a
  Moorish　fortress；　no　light　playing　between　its　impermeable　walls；
  the　image　of　power；　dark；　isolated；　impenetrable。　　Stanton　forgot
  his　cowardly　guide；　his　loneliness；　his　danger　amid　an　approaching
  storm　and　an　inhospitable　country；　where　his　name　and　country　would
  shut　every　door　against　him；　and　every　peal　of　thunder　would　be
  supposed　justified　by　the　daring　intrusion　of　a　heretic　in　the
  dwelling　of　an　old　Christian；　as　the　Spanish　Catholics　absurdly
  term　themselves；　to　mark　the　distinction　between　them　and　the
  baptized　Moors。
  All　this　was　forgot　in　contemplating　the　glorious　and　awful　scenery
  before　him；light　struggling　with　darkness；and　darkness　menacing
  a　light　still　more　terrible；　and　announcing　its　menace　in　the　blue
  and　livid　mass　of　cloud　that　hovered　like　a　destroying　angel　in　the
  air；　its　arrows　aimed；　but　their　direction　awfully　indefinite。　　But
  he　ceased　to　forget　these　local　and　petty　dangers；　as　the　sublimity
  of　romance　would　term　them；　when　he　saw　the　first　flash　of　the
  lightning；　broad　and　red　as　the　banners　of　an　insulting　army　whose
  motto　is　Vae　victis；　shatter　to　atoms　the　remains　of　a　Roman
  tower；the　rifted　stones　rolled　down　the　hill；　and　fell　at　the
  feet　of　Stanton。　　He　stood　appalled；　and；　awaiting　his　summons　from
  the　Power　in　whose　eye　pyramids；　palaces；　and　the　worms　whose　toil
  has　formed　them；　and　the　worms　who　toil　out　their　existence　under
  their　shadow　or　their　pressure；　are　perhaps　all　alike　contemptible；
  he　stood　collected；　and　for　a　moment　felt　that　defiance　of　danger
  which　danger　itself　excites；　and　we　love　to　encounter　it　as　a
  physical　enemy；　to　bid　it　〃do　its　worst；〃　and　feel　that　its　worst
  will　perhaps　be　ultimately　its　best　for　us。　　He　stood　and　saw
  another　flash　dart　its　bright；　brief；　and　malignant　glance　over　the
  ruins　of　ancient　power；　and　the　luxuriance　of　recent　fertility。
  Singular　contrast！　　The　relics　of　art　forever　decaying；the
  productions　of　nature　forever　renewed。（Alas！　for　what　purpose　are
  they　renewed；　better　than　to　mock　at　the　perishable　monuments　which
  men　try　in　vain　to　rival　them　by。）　　The　pyramids　themselves　must
  perish；　but　the　grass　that　grows　between　their　disjointed　stones
  will　be　renewed　from　year　to　year。
  Stanton　was　thinking　thus；　when　all　power　of　thought　was　suspended；
  by　seeing　two　persons　bearing　between　them　the　body　of　a　young；　and
  apparently　very　lovely　girl；　who　had　been　struck　dead　by　the
  lightning。　　Stanton　approached；　and　heard　the　voices　of　the　bearers
  repeating；　〃There　is　none　who　will　mourn　for　her！〃　　〃There　is　none
  who　will　mourn　for　her！〃　said　other　voices；　as　two　more　bore　in
  their　arms　the　blasted　and　blackened　figure　of　what　had　once　been　a
  man；　comely　and　graceful；〃there　is　not　ONE　to　mourn　for　her　now！〃
  They　were　lovers；　and　he　had　been　consumed　by　the　flash　that　had
  destroyed　her；　while　in　the　act　of　endeavoring　to　defend　her。　　As
  they　were　about　to　remove　the　bodies；　a　person　approached　with　a
  calmness　of　step　and　demeanor；　as　if　he　were　alone　unconscious　of
  danger；　and　incapable　of　fear；　and　after　looking　on　them　for　some
  time；　burst　into　a　laugh　so　loud；　wild；　and　protracted；　that　the
  peasants；　starting　with　as　much　horror　at　the　sound　as　at　that　of
  the　storm；　hurried　away；　bearing　the　corpses　with　them。　　Even
  Stanton's　fears　were　subdued　by　his　astonishment；　and；　turning　to
  the　stranger；　who　remained　standing　on　the　same　spot；　he　asked　the
  reason　of　such　an　outrage　on　humanity。　　The　stranger；　slowly
  turning　round；　and　disclosing　a　countenance　which（Here　the
  manuscript　was　illegible　for　a　few　lines）；　said　in　English（A　long
  hiatus　followed　here；　and　the　next　passage　that　was　legible；　though
  it　proved　to　be　a　continuation　of　the　narrative；　was　but　a
  fragment。）
  。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。
  The　terrors　of　the　night　rendered　Stanton　a　sturdy　and　unappeasable
  applicant；　and　the　shrill　voice　of　the　old　woman；　repeating；　〃no
  hereticno　EnglishMother　of　God　protect　usavaunt　Satan！〃
  combined　with　the　clatter　of　the　wooden　casement　（peculiar　to　the
  houses　in　Valencia）　which　she　opened　to　discharge　her　volley　of
  anathematization；　and　shut　again　as　the　lightning　glanced　through
  the　aperture；　were　unable　to　repel　his　importunate　request　for
  admittance；　in　a　night　whose　terrors　ought　to　soften　all　the
  miserable　petty　local　passions　into　one　awful　feeling　of　fear　for
  the　Power　who　caused　it；　and　compassion　for　those　who　were　exposed
  to　it。But　Stanton　felt　there　was　something　more　than　national
  bigotry　in　the　exclamations　of　the　old　woman；　there　was　a　peculiar
  and　personal　horror　of　the　English。And　he　was　right；　but　this　did
  not　diminish　the　eagerness　of　his。　。　。　。
  。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。
  The　house　was　handsome　and　spacious；　but　the　melancholy　appearance
  of　desertion　。　。　。　。
  。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。
  The　benches　were　by　the　wall；　but　there　were　none　to　sit　there；
  the　tables　were　spread　in　what　had　been　the　hall；　but　it　seemed　as
  if　none　had　gathered　round　them　for　many　years；the　clock　struck
  audibly；　there　was　no　voice　of　mirth　or　of　occupation　to　drown　its
  sound；　time　told　his　awful　lesson　to　silence　alone；the　hearths
  were　black　with　fuel　long　since　consumed；the　family　portraits
  looked　as　if　they　were　the　only　tenants　of　the　mansion；　they　seemed
  to　say；　from　their　moldering　frames；　〃there　are　none　to　gaze　on
  us；〃　and　the　echo　of　the　steps　of　Stanton　and　his　feeble　guide；　was
  the　only　sound　audible　between　the　peals　of　thunder　that　rolled
  still　awfully；　but　more　distantly；every　peal　like　the　exhausted
  murmurs　of　a　spent　heart。　　As　they　passed　on；　a　shriek　was　heard。
  Stanton　paused；　and　fearful　images　of　the　dangers　to　which
  travelers　on　the　Continent　are　exposed　in　deserted　and　remote
  habitations；　came　into　his　mind。　　〃Don't　heed　it；〃　said　the　old
  woman；　lighting　him　on　with　a　miserable　lamp；〃it　is　only　he。　。　。　。
  。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。
  The　old　woman　having　now　satisfied　herself；　by　ocular
  demonstration；　that　her　English　guest；　even　if　he　was　the　devil；
  had　neither　horn；　hoof；　nor　tail；　that　he　could　bear　the　sign　of
  the　cross　without　changing　his　form；　and　that；　when　he　spoke；　not　a
  puff　of　sulphur　came　out　of　his　mouth；　began　to　take　courage；　and
  at　length　commenced　her　story；　which；　weary　and　comfortless　as
  Stanton　was；　。　。　。　。
  。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。
  Every　obstacle　was　now　removed；　parents　and　relations　at　last　gave
  up　all　opposition；　and　the　young　pair　were　united。　　Never　was　there
  a　lovelier；they　seemed　like　angels　who　had　only　anticipated　by　a
  few　years　their　celestial　and　eternal　union。　　The　marriage　was
  solemnized　with　much　pomp；　and　a　few　days　after　there　was　a　feast
  in　that　very　wainscoted　chamber　which　you　paused　to　remark　was　so
  gloomy。　　It　was　that　night　hung　with　rich　tapestry；　representing
  the　exploits　of　the　Cid；　particularly　that　of　his　burning　a　few
  Moors　who　refused　to　renounce　their　accursed　religion。　　They　were
  represented　beautifully　tortured；　writhing　and　howling；　and
  〃Mahomet！　Mahomet！〃　issuing