This mode of life presents other numerous advantages. A very prominent one is the inviolable division of time between society and solitude. We suppose the hour for rising eight,--immediately after the chocolate,--that of breakfast eleven. The intervening hours are solitary, and are frequently divided between the pillow and the toilette; while they are sometimes devoted to more useful occupations, and added to by earlier risers. From the family meeting at breakfast until the dinner hour, three, the time may be employed in business, reading, in fact, in every one's habitual pursuits. No intrusion is to be feared. No accursed idler lounges in to interrupt with his compliments, or gossip, your letter to your lawyer, or, if you are a lawyer yourself, that to your client; nor is the conscience of scrupulous porters burdened with the mendacious "not at home." These hours are sacred, and guaranteed by the very air, which renders the streets impassable, but leaves the cool court protected from the sun's ray by the _toldo_, (canvas awning spread at a level with the roof, and which is reefed up at night like a sail,) and refreshed by its ever-murmuring fountain and cool marble pavement, to the peaceable enjoyment of its owners. The female portion of the family are thus enabled to devote themselves to household occupations, or to their favourite employments, without having to undergo, until the second getting up in the evening, the fever of a complete toilette, which would, during the day, be insupportable. The time thus devoted to society, is amply sufficient; as it may be prolonged, as each party feels inclined, from an hour or two after sunset, until the returning rays drive all back to their cool retreat. The night of the festival of St. John is, in Seville, sacred, from remote time, to amusement and festivity. During the five or six hours of darkness accorded by the Midsummer sun, the banks of the Guadalquivir echo the gay melodious laugh, which enlivens the animated buzz of the crowd; and the morning ray gilds the upper windows of the deserted houses before their doors are opened to the supper-craving population. The rite practised on this occasion is marked by a simplicity altogether antique. The youth of Seville, that is the masculine portion, have provided themselves with small boxes, containing a sort of sugar-plum of exquisite flavour. One of these is held between the finger and thumb of the _cavallero_, from the moment he sets foot on the promenade. On the approach of a party of ladies he endeavours to distinguish, as far off as the gloom permits, the features or dress of an already selected object of preference; or, if still free to make a selection, some countenance possessed of sufficient attraction to determine his choice. On discovering the owner of either of these requisites, he watches a favourable opportunity, and approaching the lady, offers the bonbon.