There is something peculiarly attractive in a walk through Seville. The streets, though narrow, so scrupulously clean--the white-washed houses, every one with its range of balconies; those peeps into the patios,--so cool, so luxurious,--the golden oranges hanging over the garden walls, for every third or fourth house has its garden and orangery; and the glimpses of Moorish customs visible even in trifles. Among these, one of the most obvious, is the contempt of chairs: in many of the lower order of houses, and in the artizan’s workshop, it is usual to see the inmates squatted upon mats; and even in the most respectable houses, and in the best shops, most persons are seated upon low stools, not much elevated above the ground. The general aspect of the population of Seville, differs greatly from that of Madrid. To begin with the upper ranks, there is something more eastern in the appearance of the ladies; they are more frequently seen veiled; their cheeks seem tinged with a hue of Moorish blood; and along with the fire of the Castilian eye, there is mingled a shading of oriental softness. Among the lower orders of women, we remark an extravagant and tasteless profusion of gaudy ornaments, immense earrings, and enormous bracelets, and numerous rings, which I have seen gracing the fingers of a common beggar: all this is a remnant of Moorish custom; and the dress of the Andalusian peasant, is even more grotesque and ornamented than that of the women: his jacket and waistcoat, are almost always trimmed with gold or silver, and a profusion of silk cord and buttons covers every article of his dress. One striking difference between Madrid and Seville, consists in the number of ragged and wretched-looking people seen in the latter city. This is the almost invariable result of a hot climate, where labour is a disagreeable exertion, and where the temptations to labour are few. It is easy to live in Andalusia:--give a small loaf of bread to one of these ragged sons of idleness; he makes a hole in it, begs a little oil, which is not worth refusing, pours it into the hole, and dipping his slices of bread in it as he cuts round his loaf, he is set up for the day; and if he succeeds in getting a two-quarto piece, about one farthing, he can deliberate between the choice of a _gaspacho_, (the luxury of thousands), which only requires a little vinegar, oil, and onion,--or, of as many grapes as might furnish forth the desert of a Russian prince: he is therefore idle, because he has no incitement to be busy; and as for his rags and houselessness, these are scarcely felt to be evils in a country where the sun shines every day in the year.