Pride in Rags 



me less now than they were accustomed to do in my ordi- 

 nary dress. 



I felt a sort of independent pride in being thus tacitly 

 admitted into the fraternity of vagabonds, whose privilege 

 it is to avoid being stared at and begged of. 



I crossed the bridge of boats, lifting my hat devoutly as 

 I passed by the painted wooden shrine of San Jos6, in the 

 middle of it. On reaching the main street of Triana, which 

 runs parallel with the river, I turned to the right, intending 

 to skirt the banks, and go up to Alcala del Rio by Santi 

 Ponce ; but getting into some brick-fields and tileries, 1 

 changed my mind, and cut across to the road I had followed 

 the day before, resolving to ascend the hill. 



As I cleared the suburb, advancing across the plain, and 

 often turning, the Giralda, and then the huge body of the 

 cathedral, appeared to rise higher and higher, as smaller 

 surrounding objects were dwarfed by distance. Hereupon 

 I made these reflections : — 



"In a city, the great cathedral attracts our attention, 

 and lifts our eyes a moment, and is lost as we turn the 

 corner of some insignificant little street ; but as we depart 

 from the city, the great cathedral becomes more and more 

 its crowning point — its sole feature. 



" So, in the throng and bustle of life, is religion. The 

 greatness of God and the beauty of holiness may strike 

 our imagination, or even lift our heart in momentary 

 adoration, shut out of view too soon by the narrow and 

 crooked mazes of the world's pleasures and cares. 



" It is as we remove from the world, and withdraw our- 

 selves from its cares and pleasures, — it is in the departure 

 of our faculties, and the hazy distance of old age, that the 

 ONE object of our existence here towers up to its true 

 proportions. 



91 



