Sevillised Life 



I suppose I contrived to amuse her, for she tolerated me 

 as one of her most troublesome adorers : she certainly 

 amused me, and I hope the reader will not be scandalised. 



I lived in the house of one Juliana, once a celebrated 

 beauty ; here also lived my Spanish master, Senor Vasquez 

 — the only master of languages in all Seville. He speaks 

 and teaches English, French, and his native language. The 

 course of my life used to be something like this : — 



In the morning I read Don Ouixote w^ith Senor Vasquez. 

 Breakfast on chocolate and toast. Feeling rather cold, I 

 open my window and go out to smoke a cigarillo on the 

 sunny balcony, during which I divide my attention between 

 the stream of cloaked and mantilla'd figures passing through 

 the Calle de Velasquez, and a beautiful seiiora over the 

 way. She is separated from her husband, and sits stitching, 

 or reading her missal at the window all day. 



Then I sit reading, writing, or engraving ; and perhaps 

 Miguel Laso de la Vega, or Ramon Ponce de Leon, or 

 Antonio Rueda, come in and smoke a cigar. Then we go 

 out for a walk, and coming about three o'clock down to 

 the Or ilia quay (which is both the Serpentine's shore and 

 the Rotten-row of Seville), there pace about among the 

 beauty and fashion of the place on the pleasant shore of 

 Guadalquivir. 



This is really the drawing-room of Sevillian society, for 

 there is no general society anywhere else. A few houses 

 make a feeble effort at evening parties, but it is contrary to 

 the habits of the city, and does not succeed. Houses are 

 looked upon as home ; merely places to live, and eat, and 

 sleep, as privately as possible. In the opera or theatre and 

 the paseo (public walks) they manage to see enough of their 

 acquaintances. Intimate friends are of course a part of 

 home, and may sit in a corner of the sala, lighted only by 



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