his native land, and boldly undertook long and difficult voyages. Not content with surveying the mountains and plains of Europe, he passed over to the sandy and burning shores of Africa, penetrated the most remote provinces of Asia, travelled through India, and returned to Grand Cairo, having minutely inspected and fully understood whatever was rare and singular in the three kingdoms of nature. He attentively examined animals, vegetables, and minerals, and acquired the most accurate knowledge of them all. Thus was he superior to Dioscorides, Galen, and Oribasius, being the Tournefort, or rather the Pliny of the Arabs, and more accurate even than Pliny, inasmuch as he examined every object for himself. Thus testify the Spanish authors, with regard to the learned El Beithar. His disciple, Ben Abi Saiba, also informs us, that such was his knowledge, that, when to try him various questions were put to him, he answered from memory, reciting the text of Dioscorides and Galen, with the names of herbs and plants, and the number of their leaves, and their localities. He mentioned, also, the names, species, and medicinal uses of herbs not referred to by the authors noticed above. Such was the fame of his wisdom, that the most celebrated academies appointed him their first physician. At last he visited Damascus, where he was highly honored by the king Alkamel, who raised him to the dignity of Vizier, and, having previously published the results of his extensive researches, he died there in the year 1248.

There have long existed certain striking points of resemblance between the customs and religious institutions of the Roman Catholics and the Mahometans, owing perhaps to the reciprocal influence which these two systems of faith have exerted upon each other, from having so long existed side by side, in the same country, or in those adjoining each other. As an example of learned folly, similar to those so often met with among the monks of the dark ages, we may notice the writings of Abilhokne, a Moorish poet, born at Malaga, who was very skilful in composing acrostics, and published a poem, each verse of which contained all the letters of the alphabet, and also ended with the same letter with which it began. In many of his other poems, also, each verse began and ended with the same letter.

But the point of resemblance, in the systems of faith noticed above, to which I would now refer, is the existence, in both, of monks and hermits, who, either as individuals or

communities, have separated themselves from the rest of mankind, that thus they might be abstracted from worldly cares, and, by serious meditation and acts of devotion, attain to greater purity of character, and higher elevation of religious feeling than other men. The Essenes and the Therapeutæ seem to have existed as separate religious communities, before the time of Christ, and this latter sect have, in some respects at least, their counterpart in the howling Dervishes and Shaking Quakers of our own age; for we read, that the men and women used to spend whole nights in religious dances, and, by violent movements, outcries, songs, and voices, strove to express the love of God then working in their souls. But, aside from these sects, learned men have claimed that this secluded mode of life existed long before the Christian era, in Egypt, Syria, India, and Mesopotamia, and that this was owing in part to the fact, that the heated atmosphere, which overspreads those countries, naturally disposes the inhabitants to repose and indolence, and to court solitude and melancholy. Still, though monkery was fully established and widely prevailed, when Mahomet founded his religion, still, he said, that Islamism had no monasticism in it. probably intended that such should continue to be the fact, for his religion was of too aspiring and ambitious a nature to tolerate a class of indolent and useless men, when the strength of every arm was needed to wield the sword in defence of the system of faith which he taught, or in extending its triumphs among distant and widely scattered nations. In the ninth century, however, when the work of conversion by the sword had firmly established the Mahometan power, the Sufis or Sophis arose, a sect resembling, in their character, employments, and modes of life, the monks of the Christian church.

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The Mahometan Sufis seem to have been deeply imbued with a kind of sentimental mysticism and poetry, freely applying to their religious affections the language commonly employed to express the hopes and fears, the heartfelt sympathy and rapturous bliss, of earthly love. Thus is it claimed, that the ardent and voluptuous strains of Hafiz, the Persian poet, as also those of other distinguished Sufites, are intended, like the Song of Solomon, to shadow forth, in the language of mortal lovers, the yearnings of a higher and a holier affection. Their religious system was founded on the idea, that the soul of man is an emanation from God, and

that, in order to be again united to and absorbed in him, it must be purified by fasting and other religious acts. Still, the language used by those under this delusion, is much less gross and sensual than that employed in the rhapsodies of the Catholic nuns, styled as they are the spouses of Jesus Christ, and said to be married to him.

Among the Sufis of Malaga, were hermits of both sexes, as also those who lived in convents, under the care of a principal. Many of these were distinguished for their spare and simple diet, the coarseness of their dress, their apparent penitence, and their frequent fastings and prayers. There were, too, among them, those celebrated for their learning; and their studies, also, seem to have resembled those of the divine Doctor Thomas Aquinas, and other Catholic authors. As an instance of this, we may notice Mohamad Ben Khalsun, who is spoken of as a monk most learned in poetry, medicine, and theology, and who, among other works, wrote one on the love of God, another on mystic theology, as also several dissertations and poems on Divine love.

Among the female hermits was one who lived in the tower of Atabal, on a lofty hill, and there, too, she died. An honorable burial was given her, not only on account of her noble rank, as she was a descendant of Mahomet, but also because she had given herself to fasting, and had led a very penitent and contemplative life. So great was the veneration for the place where she had dwelt, that every year a festival was celebrated there, with instruments of music, and, so late as the last century, Moors from Africa came as pilgrims to hold a feast to her memory. Facts like these cast important light on the past religious history of Spain, and at the same time contribute not a little to the interest which is felt by one who wanders amid the crumbling monuments and fading memorials of ages long gone by.

In a city so far removed from the capital of the kingdom as is Malaga, and in a country, too, so divided by chains of mountains, and where, from a difference of dialect, of laws, or of origin, there is often a most striking diversity of character in the inhabitants of even adjoining provinces, it of course follows, that the local rulers have more authority and higher prominence than in smaller and more compact nations. We may also notice the fact, that the forced predominance given to the Catholic religion, in Spain, by the agency of the Inquisition, using the civil power of the state as the instrument

of a bigoted and bloodthirsty priesthood; and in connexion with this, the large amount of wealth in the hands of the clergy; all of which have combined in giving the bishops of the remote provinces, with their princely incomes, a rank and influence above that of the other local dignitaries. In times of conquest and glory, too, as in the days of Ferdinand and Isabella, and of Charles the Fifth, we find saintly cardinals, archbishops, and confessors, not only guiding the councils of royalty, but girding on the weapons of warfare and leading their vassals and dependents to the field of battle. It may not, therefore, be improper to notice a few of the bishops of Malaga, whose names and whose virtues have given them a place on the pages of history. Aside from personal piety, the merit of these dignitaries consisted, in some cases, in the rigid economy and self-denial which they practised, in order that thus they might increase their charities to the poor; in others, in the liberality with which they contributed to carrying on wars, or to making roads, or constructing works of defence or public improvement. Of one of these bishops, for example, we are told, that during a destructive pestilence which prevailed in the sixteenth century, not only did he establish a general hospital, where he freely visited and consoled the sick, but also, in order to supply their wants, he sold whatever jewels he had in his palace, not sparing even the precious stones of his breastplates; and when ligatures were wanted in the hospitals, he tore up his own garments to be used for the purpose.

It is recorded of Don Juan Alonso and Moscoso, bishop of Malaga from 1603 to 1614, that he gave for pious purposes more than $155,000. So great were his charities, that the mayor of the city meeting him one day, said, "Your abundant alms and holy liberality, my Lord, cause many of both sexes to become indolent vagabonds, who, since they have experienced your generosity, are unwilling to engage in labor." The bishop urged in reply, that, while compassion was peculiarly a duty of his own office, justice, on the other hand, was the province of the mayor, and that, therefore, neither party should condemn that virtue which belonged to the other. I notice this fact to show, that Catholics themselves have not been wholly blind to the evils resulting from the indiscriminate charity practised so extensively by their church. Thus have convents, and other religious houses, been the means of training up and supporting hosts of idle

and sturdy beggars, who might have supported themselves by their own labor, and who have ever proved themselves ready for any deed of violence or infamy. Of the bishop just referred to, it is also related, as a high merit, that every night before retiring to rest, he called his household together for the purpose of family devotion. A good old Puritan would rather regard the neglect of such a duty a matter of guilt, than the performance of it a ground of merit.

Don Francisco de San Joseph, who was bishop of Malaga from 1704 to 1713, was of noble origin, and, being trained at court, he went, when young, to France, as a page to Maria Theresa, when she married Louis the Fourteenth, King of France. At the age of twenty-four, having a horrible vision of the sufferings of the world of woe, he left wealth and honor behind him, and became a Franciscan friar. He rose at length to the bishopric of Malaga, where he exhibited the greatest humility, penitence, and charity. Whatever he possessed he bestowed upon the poor. To one he gave his

curtains, to another his table furniture; and, on one occasion, when two soldiers, who were very poor, sought his aid, he divided between them his breastplate of amethyst, using afterwards in its place a cross of wood. He even parted with his cane, using in the place of it a common stick. His only means of conveyance was a small mule, and, one day, while riding through the midst of the city, he dismounted, and borrowing a needle and thread, he mended with his own hands the strap to his stirrup. During the eight years that he was bishop, his alms amounted to $732,000; of which, 200,000 were for masses for souls in purgatory, at the rate of at least four daily masses; 80,000 for daily charity at the gate; 30,000 for the poor of both sexes, reduced from former rank and standing; 20,000 for medicines for the poor who were sick; 20,000 to rebuild forty churches; 22,000 for hospitals; 10,000 for the king in a case of emergency; and 350,000 for grain for the poor. All that he possessed at the time of his death was a scanty and well-worn wardrobe, a single hat, one bed, and the mule on which he rode. His fastings were frequent and severe, and his body was torn and lacerated by self-inflicted scourging.

The climate of Malaga is very mild and equable. Frost, of the thickness of a dollar, has been known there but twice in twenty years; and the barometer never varies more than an inch, its range being between 29 and 301. The ther