The Story of Magellan and The Discovery of the Philippines. Hezekiah Butterworth

bore the news of Magellan's triumphs to Seville again.

      Beautiful Seville! We must glance at the city here. She was the pride of Spain in those times when Spain dazzled the world. The Hispal of the Phœnicians, the Hispales of the Roman conquest, and the Seville of the Moors! Her glory had arisen in the twilight of history, and had grown with the advancement of the race.

      She was indeed beautiful at the time when Magellan was preparing for the sea. The Moorish period had passed leaving her rich in arts and treasures, and splendid architecture.

      Situated on the banks of the Guadalquivir, circular in shape and surrounded with more than a hundred Moorish towers, and about ten miles in circumference, she rivaled the cities of Europe and of the Orient.

       The Giralda.

      The great cathedral was being completed at that time, a mountain of art, arising from its plain of marble. It was four hundred and thirty-one feet long, and three hundred and fifteen feet wide, with solemn and grand arches lighted by the finest windows in Spain, perhaps the most enchanting lights through which the sun ever shone. The altars were enriched by the wealth of discovery.

      Over this mountain of gold, marbles, and gems gleamed the Giralda, or weather vane, in the form of a statue, three hundred and fifty feet high.

      Seville at this time was a city of churches. To these, sailors resorted while waiting for an expedition to complete its preparations for the sea, for most of them were good Catholics, and such as hoped for God's favor in the enterprise upon which they were about to enter.

      Here, too, was the old Moorish palace, the Alcázar, with its delicate lacework like the walls of the Alhambra, but richer in color. In this palace was the Hall of the Ambassadors, one of the most enchanting apartments ever created by the genius of man.

      In the latter dream of Moorish fancy have passed aching hearts, as well as those filled with wonder and delight. Here Pedro the Cruel received one of the kings of Granada, and murdered him with his own hand, to rob him of the jewels that adorned his person.

      The tales of Pedro the Cruel haunted the city at this time.

      We are told that this monarch used to go about the city in disguise.

      One night he went out thus to serenade a beautiful lady. As he approached the balcony with his guitar where the lady lived, he saw another man there, who had come for the same purpose. The rival musician filled him with rage, and the King rushed upon him and struck him down and killed him.

      He fled away. He reasoned that as he was in disguise no one could know him.

      There was an old woman who kept a bakery across the way from the house where the noble lady lived. She was looking out of her window at the time of the murder. She saw the act, and got a view of the terrible face of the royal musician as he was fleeing away.

      "That was the King himself," said the old bake woman. "By my soul, that was the King!"

      The next day the news of the murder filled the city. The murdered man was a person of rank and importance. The people were alarmed and indignant.

      "Who did the deed?" was a question that arose to every lip.

      The King, cruel as he was, did not wish to be suspected of being a street assassin. So he issued a proclamation in this form:

      "Unless the alcalde (judge) of Seville shall discover the murderer of the gallant musician within three days, the alcalde shall lose his head."

      The city judge began to make great exertions to discover the murderer.

      The old bake woman came to him and said:

      "I know who did the deed. But silence, silence! I saw it with my own eyes, but we must be still. It was the King himself!"

      The alcalde dared not accuse the King, and yet he must save his own head. What was he to do?

      He made an image of the King. He then went to the palace.

      "O King! I have found the murderer. I have brought him here to receive sentence."

      The King was glad that a suspected person had been found, so that the public thought might be directed to the suspect.

      "What shall be done with him?" asked the alcalde.

      "What! He who would slay a musician about to serenade a noble lady?"

      "Yes, your Majesty."

      "What shall be done with him? I condemn him to death. Bring him before me."

      The alcalde brought in the image of the King, and uncovered it.

      The King beheld himself.

      "I will save your head," said the King, and the alcalde went thoughtfully away.