254 



THREE YEARS IN THE PACIFIC. 



and poor, the maimed and the blind, are found in every part 

 of this great building during every morning. 



One day I was accompanied to this church by an American 

 lady, and walked through it, with her arm drawn through 

 mine. Presently we were admonished by a canonigo that we 

 were in the temple of God, and that it was highly indecorous 

 for the lady to take my arm ! The canonigo stood with his 

 long clerical hat under his arm, and inquired whether we 

 were American or English. When informed, he made many 

 inquiries relative to our country. He asked how many Roman 

 Catholic churches there were in the United States, and whe- 

 ther there was a bishop there. He was pretty well acquainted 

 with the general history of our country and its great resources, 

 and eulogized our institutions, but argued warmly against re- 

 ligious toleration. 



I have yet to describe a very interesting part of the cathe- 

 dral. I mean the Boveda or great vault beneath the Altar 

 Mayor, After several visits and conversations with priests 

 and the worthy sacristan, I obtained the key which opens the 

 door. After the sexton had pushed back the bolt, several 

 strong efforts were required to move the hinges, stiffened by 

 long want of use. The sexton, with a long candle in his hand, 

 preceded me down a short flight of steps into a sort of ante- 

 chamber, in which were several supernumerary saints, sa- 

 viours, pictures, torches, and candlesticks, strewed about in 

 familiar confusion. I followed my leader through a low arched 

 passage, into a room about twenty feet square, and fifteen high. 

 In the centre of the floor is the mouth of a vault or well, 

 covered by loose boards, upon which the worthy sexton was 

 unwilling for either of us to trust our weight. Around the 

 walls are boxes of rough planks, extending from the floor to 

 the roof or ceiling, arranged one above the other. Some of 

 them were broken, and disclosed to view those dead, who, 

 when living, had been illustrious in church and state. The 

 sepulchral vesture was black, but so old and dry, that a touch 

 of the finger turned it to dust ! The skin was entire, of a 

 sombre parchment hue, and so hard, that when tapped with a 

 cane, it yielded a hollow, empty sound. It was shrunk close 



