The size of our Cathedral seems to me happily adapted to the object of the building. Three hundred and ninety-eight feet long by two hundred and ninety-one broad--the breadth distributed into five aisles, formed by one hundred and four arches, of which those of the centre are one hundred and thirty-four feet high, and the rest ninety-six--remove the limits of an undivided structure enough to require that effort of the eye and pause of the mind before we conceive it as a whole, which excites the idea of grandeur. This, I believe, is the impression which a temple should produce. To aim at more is to forget the solemn performances for which the structure is intended. Let the house of prayer, when solitary, appear so ample as not to exclude a single suppliant in a populous town; yet let the throng be visible on a solemn feast. Let the loftiness of the aisles soften the noise of a moving multitude into a gentle and continuous rustling; but let me hear the voice of the singers and the peals of the organ returned in deep echoes; not lost in the too distant vaults. The simultaneous impression of architectural and ritual magnificence produced at the Cathedral of Seville is, I conceive, difficult to be rivalled. The pillars are not so massive as to obstruct the sight at every turn; and were the influence of modern taste strong enough to prevail over the canonical vanity which blocks up the middle of every Cathedral with the clumsy and absurd inclosure of the choir, it would be difficult to imagine a more striking view than that which our Church presents on Holy Thursday.--In one respect, and that a most important one, it has the advantage over Saint Peter’s at Rome. The scene of filth and irreverence which, according to travellers, sometimes disgusts the eye and revolts the mind at the Church of the Vatican--those crowds of peasants and beggars, eating, drinking, and sleeping, on Christmas eve, within the precincts of the temple; are not to be seen at Seville. Our Church, though almost thronged day and night on the principal festivals, is not profaned by any external mark of indevotion. The strictest watch is kept by members of the chapter appointed for that purpose, who, attended by their vergers, go their rounds for the preservation of order. The exclusion of every kind of seats from the Church, though rather inconvenient for the people, prevents its being made a lounging-place; and, besides allowing the beautiful marble pavement to appear unbroken, avoids that dismal look of an empty theatre, which benches or pews give to churches in the intervals of divine service.