They go up every afternoon with mules and
asses, and take turns, some to rest and warm themselves by the
fires, while others fill the panniers with ice. They then set off down
the mountains, so as to reach the gates of Granada before sunrise.
That Sierra Nevada, senor, is a lump of ice in the middle of
Andalusia, to keep it all cool in summer."
It was now completely dark; we were passing through the barranco,
where stood the cross of the murdered muleteer; when I beheld a number
of lights moving at a distance, and apparently advancing up the
ravine. On nearer approach, they proved to be torches borne by a train
of uncouth figures arrayed in black: it would have been a procession
dreary enough at any time, but was peculiarly so in this wild and
solitary place.
Mateo drew near, and told me, in a low voice, that it was a
funeral train bearing a corpse to the burying-ground among the hills.
As the procession passed by, the lugubrious light of the torches,
falling on the rugged features and funeral-weeds of the attendants,
had the most fantastic effect, but was perfectly ghastly, as it
revealed the countenance of the corpse, which, according to the
Spanish custom, was borne uncovered on an open bier. I remained for
some time gazing after the dreary train as it wound up the dark defile
of the mountain. It put me in mind of the old story of a procession of
demons bearing the body of a sinner up the crater of Stromboli.
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