I was awakened more than once during the night by cats, and I believe rats, leaping upon my body.  At the last of these interruptions I arose, and, approaching the mariposa, looked at my watch; it was half-past three o’clock.  I opened the door and looked out; whereupon some fishermen entered clamouring for their morning draught:  the old man was soon on his feet serving them.  One of the men said to me that, if I was going by the steamer, I had better order my things to the wharf without delay, as he had heard the vessel coming down the river.  I dispatched my luggage, and then demanded of the red nightcap what I owed him.  He replied “One real.”  These were the only two words which I heard proceed from his mouth:  he was certainly addicted to silence, and perhaps to philosophy, neither of which are much practised in Andalusia.  I now hurried to the wharf; the steamer was not yet arrived, but I heard its thunder up the river every moment becoming more distinct:  there was mist and darkness upon the face of the waters, and I felt awe as I listened to the approach of the invisible monster booming through the stillness of the night.  It came at last in sight, plashed its way forward, stopped, and I was soon on board.  It was the Peninsula, the best boat on the Guadalquivir.

What a wonderful production of art is a steamboat; and yet why should we call it wonderful, if we consider its history.  More than five hundred years have elapsed since the idea of making one first originated; but it was not until the close of the last century that the first, worthy of the name, made its appearance on a Scottish river.

During this long period of time, acute minds and skilful hands were occasionally busied in attempting to remove those imperfections in the machinery, which alone prevented a vessel being made capable of propelling itself against wind and tide.  All these attempts were successively abandoned in despair, yet scarcely one was made which was perfectly fruitless; each inventor leaving behind him some monument of his labour, of which those who succeeded him took advantage, until at last a fortunate thought or two, and a few more perfect arrangements, were all that were wanting.  The time arrived, and now, at length, the very Atlantic is crossed by haughty steamers.  Much has been said of the utility of steam in spreading abroad civilization, and I think justly.  When the first steam vessels were seen on the Guadalquivir, about ten years ago, the Sevillians ran to the banks of the river, crying “sorcery, sorcery,” which idea was not a little favoured by the speculation being an English one, and the boats, which were English built, being provided with English engineers, as, indeed, they still are; no Spaniard having been found capable of understanding the machinery.  They soon however, became accustomed to them, and the boats are in general crowded with passengers.  Fanatic and vain as the Sevillians still are, and bigoted as they remain to their own customs, they know that good, in one instance at least, can proceed from a foreign land, and that land a land of heretics; inveterate prejudice has been shaken, and we will hope that this is the dawn of their civilization.