San Telmo is also much visited. It is the palace of the Duc de Montpensier, known throughout Spain as “the orange man.” He owns numerous orange orchards, and lavishes much time and money on his plantations and hothouses.
Another point of curiosity is known as the House of Pilate. It is said to be an exact reproduction of the celebrated House of Pilate in Jerusalem. It is remarkable for some exquisite tiles, and it bears many interesting inscriptions.
Seville presents an odd aspect to the stranger between the hours of three and six P. M. During this hot interval the streets and shops are deserted, everybody, even to the beggars, being under cover and asleep.
MOST of the peasant girls in the vicinity of Spanish cities contrive to keep a bit of flower-garden for their own personal purposes. She is a thriftless lass indeed, who has not at least one fragrant double red rose in tending, or some other red-flowered shrub. From Christmas on through the spring fête-days of the Church, they reap their tiny harvests. During this season every Spanish man and woman who can, wears a red flower in button-hole or over the ear, and the streets are thronged with bareheaded, black-tressed peasant and gypsy flower-venders. Flowers are a part of the daily marketing, and two or three centimos—a centimo is one fifth of a cent—suffice to buy a fresh nosegay. New Year’s is a marked fête in Seville, as then “The Old Queen” in the Alcazar rides out in state, the Alameda is thronged with carriages, and the whole populace is a-blossom with red.
A custom noticed by the tourist who lingers about cathedral doors, is one most observed, perhaps, by the poorer and more superstitious classes. Men and women dip the fingers, on entrance and departure, in holy water, and wet some one of the countless crosses which are set in the wall just above the cash-boxes—the cash-box in Spain being the inevitable accompaniment of the cross.
As in other Spanish cities, the noble Profession of Beggary considers itself under the protection of the Church, and the entrance to the cathedral is down a long vista of outstretched hands, the fortunate one at the far end, who holds aside the matting portiere for you to enter, feeling sure of a fee, however the others fare. The whole vicinity abounds with loathsome spectacles of disease and distress, those entirely helpless managing to be conveyed daily into holy precincts. It is often amusing to witness an adult beggar “giving points” to some young amateur in the art, the dignity of the national calling evidently being insisted upon.
An agreeable sight in this city of churches and beggars, is the afternoon stroll of companies of young priests and students from the convents. They are very noticeable, as part of the panorama, with their broad, silky shovel hats and black flowing gowns. Some are scholastic and intent upon their studies even in the streets, while others evidently take a most young man-of-the-world enjoyment in their cigarettes and the street-sights.
