It was now dusk, and I lost no time in crossing the drawbridge and entering the long low archway which, passing under the rampart, communicates with the town.  Beneath this archway paced with measured tread, tall red-coated sentinels with shouldered guns.  There was no stopping, no sauntering in these men.  There was no laughter, no exchange of light conversation with the passers by, but their bearing was that of British soldiers, conscious of the duties of their station.  What a difference between them and the listless loiterers who stand at guard at the gate of a Spanish garrisoned town.

I now proceeded up the principal street, which runs with a gentle ascent along the base of the hill.  Accustomed for some months past to the melancholy silence of Seville, I was almost deafened by the noise and bustle which reigned around.  It was Sunday night, and of course no business was going on, but there were throngs of people passing up and down.  Here was a military guard proceeding along; here walked a group of officers, there a knot of soldiers stood talking and laughing.  The greater part of the civilians appeared to be Spaniards, but there was a large sprinkling of Jews in the dress of those of Barbary, and here and there a turbaned Moor.  There were gangs of sailors likewise, Genoese, judging from the patois which they were speaking, though I occasionally distinguished the sound of “tou logou sas,” by which I knew there were Greeks at hand, and twice or thrice caught a glimpse of the red cap and blue silken petticoats of the mariner from the Romaic isles.  On still I hurried, till I arrived at a well known hostelry, close by a kind of square, in which stands the little exchange of Gibraltar.  Into this I ran and demanded lodging, receiving a cheerful welcome from the genius of the place, who stood behind the bar, and whom I shall perhaps have occasion subsequently to describe.  All the lower rooms were filled with men of the rock, burly men in general, with swarthy complexions and English features, with white hats, white jean jerkins, and white jean pantaloons.  They were smoking pipes and cigars, and drinking porter, wine and various other fluids, and conversing in the rock Spanish, or rock English as the fit took them.  Dense was the smoke of tobacco, and great the din of voices, and I was glad to hasten up stairs to an unoccupied apartment, where I was served with some refreshment, of which I stood much in need.

I was soon disturbed by the sound of martial music close below my windows.  I went down and stood at the door.  A military band was marshalled upon the little square before the exchange.  It was preparing to beat the retreat.  After the prelude, which was admirably executed, the tall leader gave a flourish with his stick, and strode forward up the street, followed by the whole company of noble looking fellows and a crowd of admiring listeners.  The cymbals clashed, the horns screamed, and the kettle-drum emitted its deep awful note, till the old rock echoed again, and the hanging terraces of the town rang with the stirring noise: