enough, these are always called Pantheons, perhaps with some reverent idea that all who enter within this temple are gods, since they have put on immortality. As we turned into the lovely Paseo, a thunder-cloud which had swept down into the valley lifted enough to show the pale white peaks, while its ragged edges still trailed across the plain. Over the city a hand's-breadth of blue sky shone on a bit of water near it with a cold, steely sparkle; while the soft, hazy darkness still enveloped the mass of trees and buildings beyond. The beautiful stone arches of the aqueducts, bringing water from the hills, shone in the half light with a dignity even greater than that added by radiant sunlight; and the small white villages, each an indistinct mass of walls and towers, nestled into the background of mountains, vague yet beautiful, as adding human interest to the distant scene. Elegance and wealth crowded the long avenue with loveliness and life, poverty and rags crouched by the wayside; and it seemed a type of the country, beautiful, but gloomy; strong with contrasts of light and shadow; rich in plenitude of resources, but poor in opportunities of utilizing them; at once picturesque and pathetic.
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