He Then Motioned Me To Follow Him,
Which I Did, The Old Port Captain Attending Us To The Gate, When He
Turned Aside Into A Building, Which I Judged To Be A Kind Of
Custom-House From The Bales And Boxes Of Every Description Piled Up
Before It.
We passed the gate and proceeded up a steep and winding
ascent; on our left was a battery full
Of guns, pointing to the
sea, and on our right a massive wall, seemingly in part cut out of
the hill; a little higher up we arrived at an opening where stood
the mosque which I have already mentioned. As I gazed upon the
tower I said to myself, "Surely we have here a younger sister of
the Giralda of Seville."
I know not whether the resemblance between the two edifices has
been observed by any other individual; and perhaps there are those
who would assert that no resemblance exists, especially if, in
forming an opinion, they were much swayed by size and colour: the
hue of the Giralda is red, or rather vermilion, whilst that which
predominates in the Djmah of Tangier is green, the bricks of which
it is built being of that colour; though between them, at certain
intervals, are placed others of a light red tinge, so that the
tower is beautifully variegated. With respect to size, standing
beside the giant witch of Seville, the Tangerine Djmah would show
like a ten-year sapling in the vicinity of the cedar of Lebanon,
whose trunk the tempests of five hundred years have worn.
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