No less than one hundred columns were comprised within the _maksurrah_, which was further provided with three doors of exquisite workmanship, one of which was covered with pure gold, as were the walls of the _mih-rab_. The floor of the _maksurrah_, it is said, was paved with silver, and that the pavements adjacent to it were covered with _sofeysafa_, an obscure word which Don Pascual de Gayangos believes to be a transposition of the Arabic word _foseyfasa_,[6] signifying enamel work of exceptional brilliancy, laid down by Greek workmen whom Abd-er-Rahman had brought to Cordova for the task. The ceiling of the Mosque was formerly covered with oval cartouches bearing appropriate monitory inscriptions and pious sentences, such as ‘Be not one of the negligent,’ ‘Felicity,’ ‘Blessing,’ ‘There is no God but God, to whom all beings address themselves in their need,’ thus inciting the minds of the faithful to contemplation and prayer. Some few of the cartouches are still remaining, but the inscriptions were carefully effaced at the time when the Mosque was transformed into a Christian temple. Those in the _mih-rab_, and in the angles near the tower, were spared. The number of brazen chandeliers of different sizes in the Mosque is computed at upwards of two hundred, and the number of cups attached and containing oil, at upwards of seven thousand. Some of the oil-reservoirs for the great lamps were Christian bells deprived of their clappers, afterwards inverted, and suspended from the roof. It is known that in the many expeditions against the Christian, bells were frequently removed from their churches and brought to Cordova. Sometimes the metal of the bells was recast into forms more in accordance with the Moorish style of ornament. APPENDIX II CORDOVA The most elegant description of Cordova is that contained in the epistle of Ash-shakandi, a native of Shakandah, a town close to Cordova, on the southern bank of the Guadalquivir. He calls Cordova ‘the repository of science, the minaret of piety and devotion, the abode of magnificence, superiority, and elegance: neither Baghdad nor Damascus can compete with it. An idea of its worth can only be arrived at by comparing the city to a beautiful bride of whose dower it should form part. Cordova may be properly called the military camp of Andalus, the common _rendezvous_ of those splendid armies which, with the help of Allah, defeated at every encounter the worshippers of the Crucified. Its great Mosque, lighted with bronze lamps made from Christian bells, had its foundations formed of the materials of demolished churches brought to Cordova by Christian captives.’