62 



PARA 



in the afternoon. When the image is deposited in the 

 chapel the festival is considered to be inaugurated, and 

 the village every evening becomes the resort of the 

 pleasure-loving population, the holiday portion of the 

 programme being preceded, of course, by a religious 

 service in the chapel. The aspect of the place is then 

 that of a fair, without the humour and fun, but, at the 

 same time, without the noise and coarseness of similar 

 holidays in England. Large rooms are set apart for 

 panoramic and other exhibitions, to which the public 

 is admitted gratis. In the course of each evening, large 

 displays of fireworks take place, all arranged according 

 to a published programme of the festival. 



The various ceremonies which take place during Lent 

 seemed to me the most impressive, and some of them 

 were exceedingly well-arranged. The people, both per- 

 formers and spectators, conduct themselves with more 

 gravity on these occasions, and there is no holiday- 

 making. Performances, representing the last events in 

 the life of Christ, are enacted in the churches or streets, 

 in such a way as to remind one of the old miracle plays 

 or mysteries. A few days before Good Friday, a torch- 

 light procession takes place by night from one church 

 to another, in which is carried a large wooden image of 

 Christ bent under the weight of the cross. The chief 

 members of the Government assist, and the whole slowly 

 moves to the sounds of muffled drums. A double pro- 

 cession is managed a few days afterwards. The image 

 of St. Mary is carried in one direction, and that of the 

 Saviour in another. Both meet in the middle of one of 

 the most beautiful of the churches, which is previously 

 filled to excess with the multitudes anxious to witness 

 the affecting meeting of mother and son a few days 

 before the crucifixion. The two images are brought face 

 to face in the middle of the church, the crowd falls pro- 

 strate, and a lachrymose sermon is delivered from the 

 pulpit. The whole thing, as well as many other spectacles 

 arranged during the few succeeding days, is highly thea- 

 trical, and well calculated to excite the religious emotions 

 of the people, although, perhaps, only temporarily. On 

 Good Friday the bells do not ring, all musical sounds are 

 interdicted, and the hours, night and day, are announced 

 by the dismal noise of wooden clappers, wielded by 

 negroes stationed near the different churches. A sermon 



