Jack a obri online dating akatsuki dating sim
And one day, with the east wind filling his sails and fear in the hearts of his crew, some forgotten Columbus of Sidon or of Tyre passed through the strait, and turning northward, beached his little galley on the peninsula where we stand.
Civilization—arts and letters, commerce and social life, and all that makes life dear to modern men—had burst the narrow limits of the Middle Sea, and first hoisted its flag o'er Cadiz. It is not unreasonable to suppose that the first keel that ever ploughed the Atlantic grazed this strand.
When Seville fell, the port continued subject to the Almohade Emir of Fez.
Alfonso the Learned subdued it without difficulty in 1262, and filled it with colonists from the north coast of Spain, from such places as Santander and Laredo.
It is interesting to note that its Moslem inhabitants were drawn from the old race of Philistines, some of whose gods had probably been worshipped here in the Punic days.
With their curling black beards I seem to see them, robed in the real Tyrian purple, reclining on their terraces even as their forefathers are shown in that strange picture in our National Gallery, "The Eve of the Deluge." Their deluge was the Roman Invasion, when, in a good hour for humanity, Latin superseded Semitic civilization, and the cruel gods of Sidon bowed before the young and beautiful gods of Rome.
Gades or Gaddir—I give it its two oldest names—did not suffer by its change of masters. The people had not forgotten the worship of Astarte, and the Gaditane dancing-girls proved themselves worthy daughters of the goddess.
While I have endeavoured to make the book as useful to travellers as within the prescribed limits was possible, I have essayed to give it, by means of the illustrations, a more permanent value. I would rather say that she was the most beautiful.
It is on the brush rather than on the pen that I have relied to convey an idea of the gorgeous panorama of Southern Spain, and to recall to the returned traveller his impressions of the land. d'Auvergne, I am indebted for various scraps of original and entertaining information. She rises out of the sea—the boundless salt ocean that stretches from pole to pole—and the crests of the waves which lick her feet are not whiter than her walls.
It is thus she appears to you, especially when you come to her over the sea—that sea which hereabouts has so often been splashed with British blood.