FAYAL AND THE PORTUGUESE 321 
to the elocution, I assented, — secretly think- 
ing, however, that the divine in question had 
exposed himself exceedingly well. 
Another very impressive ceremony was the 
Midnight Mass on New Year’s eve, when we 
climbed at midnight, through some close, dark 
passages in the vast church edifice, into a sort 
of concealed opera box above the high altar, 
and suddenly opened windows that looked down 
into the brilliantly lighted cathedral, crammed 
with kneeling people, and throbbing with loud 
music. It seemed centuries away from all mod- 
ern life, — a glimpse into some buried Pompeii 
of the Middle Ages. 
More impressive still was Holy Week, when 
there were some rites unknown to other Roman 
Catholic countries. For three days the great 
cathedral was closely veiled from without and 
darkened within, — every door closed, every 
window obscured. Before this there had been 
seventy candles lighting up the high altar and 
the eager faces: now these were all extin- 
guished, and through the dark church came 
chanting a procession bearing feeble candles 
and making a strange clapping sound, with 
matracas, like watchmen’s rattles ; men carried 
the symbolical bier of Jesus in the midst, to its 
symbolical rest beneath the altar, where the 
three candles, representing the three Maries, 
