The modern life of Seville concentrates in the two principal plazas, in the Calle de las Sierpes, and in the Park of Maria Luisa. Very pleasant are the palm-shaded squares and the walks by the Guadalquivir. In the tortuous white alleys you come unexpectedly upon charming wrought-iron gates, through which you catch glimpses of cheerful patios. Some of these lanes are so narrow that a pannier-mule almost bars your road. And above this fair city the sun shines almost perpetually, while the smokeless air has a wonderful clarity. CORDOVA Cordova, like Seville and Granada, is a memorial of the Moors. It is a city that sleeps, living in the memory of its past. Its history since the last of the sultans in Spain is comparatively uneventful, its glorious days were before the expulsion of the Morisco inhabitants, when the city was a seat of learning, a great centre of art and industry, and the place of residence of illustrious caliphs. The somnolence of Cordova is like an eternal siesta. You wander in ancient streets, with houses guarded from the ardent rays of the sun, and marvel how the people live, for there is no outward sign, as in Seville, of commercial activity. Yet the inhabitants who saunter in the Paseo del Gran Capitan, under the orange-trees, and flock to the bullfights, do not appear so "dull and ill-provided," as O'Shea found them in 1868. There is even an air of prosperity among the residents, despite the long centuries of slumber. Nor does the aspect of the city convey an impression of neglect. The houses are white and clean, the streets brighter than the thoroughfares of sombre Toledo, and the charming courtyards inviting and pleasant, with clustering roses and spreading palms. There is colour everywhere, Cordova is a painter's paradise. In summer the heat is extreme. The glare of the whitened houses reflects the brilliant sapphire of the sky, and becomes painful to the eyes; the city is in a plain, exposed to every ray of the Andalusian sun. To escape the enervating heat of summer, the wealthier inhabitants migrate to the uplands and the beautiful sierras, at whose base the city lies. The country around Cordova is fertile. Olives, vines, and many fruit-trees flourished in the valley of the Guadalquivir, and on the foothills, and there are large tracts of pasture-land. Vegetables are grown in profusion. Before the time of the Moors, Cordova had repute for its succulent artichokes. On the grassy plains the Moorish settlers led great flocks of cattle, and here grazed the splendid horses of Arab breed, which were long famous throughout Spain. [Illustration: CORDOVA, 1836. THE PRISON OF THE INQUISITION.]