This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1883 edition. Excerpt:CHAPTER XII. A BOUQUET OF LEGENDS. THE travellers remained several weeks in Granada, and became thoroughly enthusiastic over the Moorish architecture and traditions with which the place is full. I do not wonder, said Barbara, that Irving wrote so many legends; the only thing remarkable is that he could ever bear to stop. Why did he never write one about the beautiful palace of the Alcazar at Seville? And how could he leave out the Giralda? Suppose, suggested Maud, that we write some supplementary legends, as nearly in his style as we are able. Capital! exclaimed Barbara. Let Saint begin, and we will all follow. I never could write a composition, groaned Saint; how absurd to imagine that I can compose a story. If Miss Boylston will permit me I will assist her, Mr. Featherstonhaugh gallantly volunteered; and accordingly a few days later the joint production was read in Mrs. Arnold's parlor. Saint took the easy-chair diffidently, and explained with a voice which trembled somewhat that she was not to be held accountable for everything in the legend, as Mr. Featherstonhaugh had written all the silly parts. The girls laughed, and Mr. Featherstonhaugh hid his face in affected embarrassment behind his portfolio of East Indian photographs. Now that, my dear, is hardly polite, demurred Mrs. Arnold. "I mean, explained Saint, in some confusion, that Mr. Feather a talent, and by unpoetic drudging industry, he had worked himself up to his present resplendent position, and it was not surprising that he was a proud as well as happy man. Dearer to his pride and heart than any of his achievements or possessions, was the architect's gazelle-eyed daughter Aicha, a maiden on whose accomplishments he had spent more thought and care.