He Even Abetted Us In Visiting The Rooms On The _Patio_ And Satisfying Ourselves That They Were All Dismantled; When The Waiter Brought Up The Hot Soup Which Was The Only Hot Thing In The House Beside Our Tempers, He Joined With That Poor Fellow In Reconciling Us To The Inevitable.

They declared that the people whom we heard uninterruptedly clattering and chattering by in the street below, and the

Occasional tempest of wheels and bells and hoofs that clashed up to us would be the very last to pass through there that night, and they gave such good and sufficient reasons for their opinion that we yielded as we needs must. Of course, they were wrong; and perhaps they even knew that they were wrong; but I think we were the only people in that neighborhood who got any sleep that night or the next. We slept the sleep of exhaustion, but I believe those Cordovese preferred waking outdoors to trying to sleep within. It was apparently their custom to walk and talk the night away in the streets, not our street alone, but all the other streets of Cordova; the laughing which I heard may have expressed the popular despair of getting any sleep. The next day we experimented in listening from rooms offered us over another street, and then we remained measurably contented to bear the ills we had. This was after an exhaustive search for a better hotel had partly appeased us; but there remained in the Paseo del Gran Capitan one house unvisited which has ever since grown upon my belief as embracing every comfort and advantage lacking to our hotel.

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