THE HOLY-WEEK OF 1869 IN HAVANA. PALM-SUNDAY. THE TENEBRÆ. MAUNDY-THURSDAY.

So much had been told me of the antiquated observances of the Holy-Week in Havana, of the religious processions presenting to us of the nineteenth century an image of the naïf faith of the middle ages, of the rare spectacle of a whole city in mourning for the death of the Saviour, that even had my duty not called me to the church, my curiosity would have carried me thither. As it was, I resolved this Lent that, although I resided at an inconvenient distance from town, and ladies who have no carriage of their own find it sometimes unpleasant to go on foot in a country where walking is unfashionable, and considered even unfeminine, yet I would disregard disagreeables of every kind, and attend all the impressive ceremonies of this great week in the cathedral.

PALM-SUNDAY.

On Palm-Sunday, then, at six o'clock in the morning, I got into the nice, clean, well-managed cars that pass our door every few minutes all day long. The blessing of the palm branches was not to commence until a quarter after eight; but I like to "take time by the forelock," and I also feared that, as the "superior political governor of Havana" had invited "the grandees of Spain, the titled of Castile, the knights grand crosses, the gentlemen, (gentiles hombres,) and civil and military functionaries to contribute their assistance to render the religious acts more solemn," there might be somewhat of a crowd, and so I determined to arrive betimes and secure for myself a seat where I could both see and hear well.

The early morning in Cuba is always delightful, and this 21st of March was very bright and lovely, the sky intensely blue and without a cloud, and a cool breeze gently waving the tall tops of the cocoa-nut trees, and rustling the light, feathery sprays of the graceful bamboos. The white colonnaded houses of the Cerro looked very pleasant among their palms and laurels. La Carolina was in full bloom in some of the gardens, its spreading, leafless branches covered with great plumy tufts of rose-colored filaments; honeysuckle vines and the yellow jasmine climbed about the railings, and the large, brilliant flowers of the mar pacifico completed the floral landscape with that bright "bit" of scarlet so agreeable to the artistic eye.

As we approached the city, however, the pretty houses became fewer, and the mean suburban shops and fondas appeared more grimy than ever in the bright sunlight; their dirty awnings hanging in rags over the badly-paved, broken sidewalk. The houses, all of one or two stories, their exteriors washed with blue, yellow, lilac, or apple-green, wore a general look of never being repaired, and their gay coloring was faded, spotted, stained, and smeared by the exceeding dampness of the climate. I had glimpses, too, as we passed, into narrow streets so frightfully gullied and filthy that they made me shudder. The population of this part of extra-mural Havana was not more prepossessing in appearance than its haunt.

In about half an hour we reached the Campo de Marte, (Field of Mars,) a fine square which would be handsomer if it were bordered with shade-trees. Now it is an arid plain, with a few straggling blades of grass in patches here and there. On one of the sides of this place stands the magnificent mansion of the Aldamas, one of the richest families in the island; on another side, the principal railway station. A great number of volunteers, fine, stout, strong-looking men generally, dressed in a blue and white striped drill uniform, and armed with short swords and bayoneted muskets, were mustering in the middle of the Campo, and a great rabble of little blackies surrounded them, gaping with admiration. At the eastern extremity of the square we cut across the commencement of what used to be called the Parque de Ysabel Segunda; but her statue has been pulled down from its pedestal, and the promenade has now no name. Here again, around the pretty fountain that represents Havana under the form of an Indian maiden supporting a shield that bears the arms of the city, and surrounded by tropical fruits and graceful plants, were plenty of flowers; the blue, crimson, and purple morning-glories, that had just opened their radiant petals to the sun, were the most vividly-colored I have ever seen.

Passing the Tacon Theatre, we soon reached the breach in the city walls by which the cars enter. These old fortifications, built by the Spaniards to keep out the Indians and the English, are being slowly demolished. A very fine white stone church is in progress of erection close by.

The streets within the walls are well paved and clean; the houses mostly large and very strongly built. They usually form a hollow square, the centre being an open yard, containing a few shrubs. The windows of all the rooms reach from the floor to the ceiling; they are without glass and protected by iron bars; thick inside shutters, into which two or three glazed panes are inserted to admit the light, close out any very bad weather, wind or rain. The sidewalks are usually not more than a foot and a half wide; they look like ledges running along the sides of the houses, and are exceedingly uncomfortable for pedestrians, as I found when I descended from the car at its stopping-place in front of the church San Juan de Dios, and proceeded on foot to the cathedral.

San Cristóbal de la Habana, the metropolitan cathedral, is a large and handsome edifice; it dates from 1724, and although it has at the present moment a very time-worn appearance, it was repaired and beautified only a few years since. Two towers and three doors give an imposing air to the front; the arched nave within is lofty and spacious, and separated from the aisles by massive pillars of masonry. The whole of the interior is painted in fresco, but is much deteriorated by the excessive humidity of the climate. The high altar, constructed of beautiful jasper, under a dome of porphyry, supported by columns of the same material, was built in Rome. On the gospel side of the chancel is the tomb of Christopher Columbus, whose ashes, inclosed in a leaden box, rest within the very wall of the sacred edifice.

Few persons had yet assembled in the church, and I quickly obtained a seat on one of the benches that are placed along each side of the nave. I was much pleased to find myself exactly opposite to the crimson velvet-covered arm-chair and reading-desk reserved for the captain-general, and to the less imposing but handsome seats intended for the governor, grandees, and municipality. I was also just behind a row of arm-chairs allotted to the civil and military functionaries.

In the chancel, concealing from view the honored tomb, was raised a purple velvet dais; beneath it stood the purple velvet-covered throne and reading-desk of the bishop. A great black flag with a blood-red cross in its centre leaned against the side of the altar, on which was seen the emblem of our faith swathed in violet crape. An immense white curtain, very artistically draped, was suspended across the southern transept.

As the time passed, colored servants made their appearance every now and then, bringing their mistresses' small low chairs and little carpets; for the Havana churches, like the Catholic churches of the European continent, have no pews. These servants wore the most brilliant liveries, such as orange-tinted indispensables, bright green waistcoat, and red swallow-tail coat, forcibly reminding one of the parrots of the Cuban woods. A complete canary-colored suit, surmounted by a round, woolly, black head, produced a very droll effect. The little chairs were placed and the little carpets spread wherever it was possible, so that the marble floor of the space between the official seats was soon nearly covered. The greater number of ladies, however, had no chairs, but knelt, sometimes three on the same carpet, during the whole of the ceremony; that is, from eight till twelve, only changing their posture occasionally to sitting on the ground, with their feet doubled up on one side.

A little before eight o'clock, the ladies began to arrive. Each one, after she had knelt down and arranged the folds of her voluminous train to her satisfaction, dotted herself over rapidly with a great number of little crosses, and ended by kissing her thumb. This ungraceful performance is only a hasty, careless way of making the three signs taught by the church, which ought to be done thus: The thumb of the right hand is placed across the middle of the index, to represent the cross. The first sign is then made with it on the forehead, Por la señal de la Santa Cruz—"By the sign of the holy cross;" the second on the mouth, De nuestros enemigos—"From our enemies;" the third on the heart, Libra nos, Señor, dios nuestro—"Deliver us, Lord, our God." The sign as it is made usually with us, and a kiss on the cross represented by the thumb and index, terminate this Spanish process of blessing one's self.

The toilettes of some of the fair Spanish and Cuban ladies present on this occasion were of rich black silk, with a black lace mantilla over the head, half shading the face and shoulders. There was an elegant simplicity in this costume that seemed to me to make it fit to be adopted in all countries as a dress for public worship. But the great majority were attired in showy, expensive materials, quite devoid of taste, especially in the choice and harmony of colors. Black grenadine and lace dresses, with light belts, were numerous; satin stripes of the deepest orange color were worn by tall, slender, sallow damsels; vert d'eau, that delicate water-green which demands so imperiously the contrast of lilies and roses, was donned by a stout dame, couleur de café au lait; and one lady displayed an ample, sweeping robe of that bright hue the French call Bismark content, which imparted an unearthly lustre to her natural green tinge that made my flesh creep. Lace mantillas over the head were universal. Most were black; but some young girls wore white ones, fastened to their hair with a bunch of rose-buds. There were a great many blue silk bodices, of the style affected by Swiss maidens; and I remarked that the fat ladies were very partial to low dresses and short sleeves, with handsome necklaces and bracelets. No one wore gloves, and every one carried a fan.

There was a great majority of expressive, intelligent faces among these belles, and there were plenty of large black eyes, some very beautiful; and there were pretty lips, which disclosed with every smile two even rows of pearly teeth; but there was also a total absence of that fresh, healthy look which, when united to youth, constitutes beauty, whatever be the shape of the features, and without which no woman can be truly lovely. As I contemplated, from my somewhat high bench, the colorless cheeks of the maidens, and the sallow, withered skins of the matrons kneeling on the marble floor before me, I remembered the temperate zone with heart-sick longing. "It seems," thought I, "very delightful, when one reads of it, to inhabit a clime where the trees are ever green, and the flowers in perpetual bloom; where snow and ice are unknown; but look at these pallid girls and their faded mothers—poor, enervated victims of continual heat! And oh! the many physical miseries arising from want of active exercise, and the sluggish torpor that seems to invade the soul as well as the body." And then the days long gone by came back to me; the days when "life went a-Maying with nature, hope, and poesy;" the days when I was young. "How I pity you," I murmured, "pale Cuban girls, who have never run free in the daisied meadows to gather spring violets and primroses; who have never rambled with laughing youths and maidens in the leafy woods of summer, or sported among the dried fallen leaves in the cool, bright days of autumn, or made one in a merry evening party around the sparkling, crackling, glowing winter fire!"

A startling yelp, accompanied by the whistling sound of a well-applied whip, recalled my wandering thoughts. The perrero, in the exercise of his duties, was ejecting a recalcitrant dog, which had contrived to reach the chancel unobserved. This functionary, the perrero—anglicé, dog-man—is peculiar to the cathedral. In all the other churches of Havana, the faithful are constantly grieved by the unseemly spectacle of dogs roaming at will within the sacred precincts, even on the very steps of the altar. The perrero is distinguished by a dark blue serge robe, descending to his feet, and very much resembling a gentleman's dressing-gown in form. Around his neck he wears, as a finish, a wide white frill. He carries, concealed in the folds of this unpretending and rather unbecoming costume, a serviceable cowhide, which he uses with a will upon all canine intruders; and if he can, he concludes his admonishment with a kick, it being generally believed that a dog which has received this final humiliation eschews the cathedral for the rest of his days.

In the mean time, a considerable number of persons had assembled in the church, and the preparations for the blessing of the palms were completed. The highly ornamented branches had been brought in, piled up on great trays; the bishop's pastoral crook had been placed leaning against his throne, and the wax tapers were lighted. The clergy, hastening in procession to the great central door, which was presently thrown wide open, letting in a flood of light and warm air, announced the arrival of the prelate. It was rather difficult to make a passage for him up to the altar; for some good nuns had come with a shoal of little girls, who had been arranged so as to fill up every interstice left by the occupants of the chairs and carpets; but it was done at last, and he advanced slowly and with great dignity up the nave, blessing all as he passed.

The prelate had scarcely taken his seat under the dais, when the doors, opening wide again, gave entrance to the grandees, the municipality, and a number of military and civil functionaries. They were ushered to the places assigned to them by four mace-bearers, habited in the Spanish mace-bearing costume of three hundred years ago, and much resembling in general appearance the tremendous Queen Elizabeth's beef-eaters, who seemed to my childish eyes the most wonderful sight in the Tower of London. They wore loose red velvet tunics, trimmed with gold lace and fringe; the castles of Castile were embroidered on the breast, and the lions of Leon adorned the sleeves; an immense double ruff around the throat; big, high, black boots and buckskin small-clothes, and a wide-brimmed hat turned up on one side, with a red and yellow feather, completed the costume.

The military and civil officers were in full uniform, wearing their orders and decorations; the noblemen and gentlemen in evening dress, and displaying on their breasts numerous ribbons and brilliant stars. They were nearly all venerable-looking, gray-haired men, with that pensive, dignified gravity of demeanor peculiar to the Spaniard.

The religious ceremony now began. The palm-branches blessed were all curiously plaited and lopped, until they were but little more than a yard high, only two or three small leaves being left at the top. They were ornamented with bows of bright-colored ribbons, bunches of artificial flowers, and gold and silver tinsel butterflies. That intended for the prelate was covered with elegant gold devices and arabesques. Each of the grandees in turn ascended the steps of the altar, and, kneeling, received one from the bishop, whose hand he kissed, and then retired. When all had been distributed, the procession was formed; but I must confess that it disappointed me exceedingly. I had expected to see a grove of green, waving palms moving along amidst the hosannas of the multitude; but, as it was, all devotional and picturesque effect was totally wanting. I have since been told that in the poorer churches, which cannot afford to buy the plaited, lopped, and gilded sticks that the bad taste of the people prefer, the simple branch, so exquisitely graceful, is perforce adopted, and the procession, consequently, a very pretty sight.

In the cathedral, the whole ceremony was cold and unimposing. There was no summons from the outside, with response from within. There was no triumphal burst from the organ when the Victor over sin and death made his entry; no anthem to remind us how the chosen will be welcomed to heaven. The procession descended by the southern wing, and went out into the church porch, where the psalms appointed were sung; the great central door was then opened, and it returned up the nave to the altar.

The mass followed, and the bishop delivered a short sermon. His voice was very agreeable, and his manner impressive.

As soon as the service concluded, every one hastened away. There were no loiterers—not even to see the prelate leave the cathedral, which he did on foot, his violet silk train borne by one of the priests. It is, however, but just to remark—if excuse be needed for the haste with which the church was cleared—that it was twelve o'clock, and no one had breakfasted.

I was pleased to meet a friend at the door, who insisted on my going home with her, and I gratefully accepted the invitation; for I felt tired and faint. We accordingly got into her quitrin, and in a few minutes reached the welcome door.

The quitrin, the private conveyance of Cuba, and an improvement on the well-known volante, is a carriage somewhat resembling the victoria, but with two immense wheels; it is swung, too, so easily that a person not accustomed to the vehicle finds it difficult to enter. The shafts are exceedingly long, and the horse in them trots, while a second horse, upon which the calesero rides, canters. This second horse is attached to the carriage by long traces at the left side, and a little ahead of the shaft-horse. The effect produced by the different paces of the animals is very curious.

The calesero, or driver, is always a colored man; he is usually dressed in a blue jacket, (though green, yellow, and red are not unfrequent,) white drill waistcoat and trowsers, and high black leathern leggings, hollowed out under the knee and standing up stiff above it, resembling, in fact, the great boots worn by French postilions, minus the feet. These leggings are fastened down the sides with straps and silver buckles, and ornamented with large silver plates. No stockings, but low-cut shoes, leaving visible the naked instep, heavy silver spurs and a stove-pipe hat, and the calesero is considered an elegant turn-out.

The breakfast was waiting; a Creole one, composed of soup made of the water in which beef-bones, and especially beef knee-caps, had been boiled, flavored with onions fried in lard; of vaca frita—fried cow—little pieces of beef of all shapes, fried also in lard; of ropa vieja—old clothes—slices of cold meat warmed up with sauce; of aporeado—beef torn into shreds of an inch and a half long and stewed with a little tomato, green peppers, garlic, and onions, (this dish looks very like boiled twine;) of picadillo—meat minced as fine as possible and scrambled in eggs, chopped onions and peppers; of rice cooked with little pieces of fat pork and colored with saffron; of very nice pork-chops, the best meat in Cuba, and very different and far superior to Northern pork; of boiled yucca, and ripe plantains, very delicious to the taste, resembling in flavor a well-made apple charlotte. The bread was very good, and more baked than it usually is in the United States. Claret and water was the general beverage, and the meal finished with a cup of hot coffee enriched with creamy milk, boiled without the salt and aniseed that Creoles almost invariably put into it. We were waited on at table by two admirably-trained Chinese, a people much and justly esteemed in Havana as house-servants and cooks.

It was nearly three o'clock when I at last reached home; but not until the next day did I hear of the four unfortunate men shot that afternoon in the streets, during the embarkation of the two hundred and fifty political prisoners for Fernando Po.

THE TENEBRÆ.

The following Wednesday morning, I reached the cathedral just as the gospel was commenced. At the conclusion of the mass the service of the Tenebræ was very impressively chanted. As I listened, my heart realized all the grief and desolation of that sad time. I could hear David bewailing his outraged Lord and Son; Jeremias lamenting over the ruins of Jerusalem, over the crucified Victim; dear mother church calling her children to repentance in supplicating, tender strains; and the three devoted Marys sighing and weeping as they climbed the steep of Calvary among the crowd that followed our blessed Saviour to the cross. At the termination of this mournful music, just as the confused murmur that recalled the noise of the tumultuous masses who, led on by Judas, came armed with sticks to seize Jesus, died away, a number of priests, completely enveloped in ample black silk robes with long pointed trains, their faces entirely concealed beneath high-peaked black silk hoods, advanced to the front of the altar and knelt in a row on the step before it. After a short, whispered prayer, one of them arose, and taking the black banner with the blood-red cross, which I have already mentioned, waved it for several minutes in silence over his companions, while they prostrated themselves on their faces before the altar. It is impossible to imagine a scene more lugubrious; the black-robed figures lying motionless, the mysterious hooded form that seemed to tower above them, the sinister flag, the deep silence—all contributed to inspire a sentiment of undefinable fear. Every one present knelt, and in unbroken silence the black banner was waved over us. When we raised our heads, the sombre assembly had disappeared and the chancel was empty.

This, I was told, is a ceremony that has been handed down from the time of the primitive Christians of Rome; but no one was able to explain the meaning of it to my satisfaction.

MAUNDY-THURSDAY.

Maundy-Thursday found me bright and early in the cathedral, and well placed; for I was again just opposite the seats reserved for the captain-general and the governor, and just behind those intended for the military and civil officers.

With the exception of the bishop's dais, throne, reading-desk, and cushion, which were now of white damask and gold, every thing was the same as on Palm-Sunday. But the great white curtain had been removed from before the southern transept, and there was now to be seen a magnificent golden sepulchre, under a white and gilded dome supported by columns. The statue of a kneeling angel adorned each side of this monument, to which the officiating priest ascended by six carpeted steps. Innumerable wax tapers in silver candlesticks were arranged on each side, their soft light reflected by the silver and gold drapery that lined the vault.

As on Palm-Sunday, the floor of the nave was soon covered with carpets and little chairs, all occupied an hour before the mass began by women and children, white and colored, of every social grade, from the delicate marchioness to the coarse black cook. Not even the most elegant lady present seemed in the slightest degree annoyed by being elbowed, and her satin dress rumpled, by some pushing, saucy morena, (colored woman,) who planted her chair or stool just where she could contrive to squeeze it in, with the most perfect assurance that no one would question her right to do so. I remarked, too, that in the crowd of men who stood in the aisles, the whites and blacks, the rich and the poor, were on the same terms and acting in precisely the same manner toward one another; and I felt convinced that nowhere on earth was such social equality to be met with as I witnessed in the cathedral church of Havana.

I was admiring this absence of all invidious distinctions in the house of God, and rejoicing in the thought that here, at least, the master had to confess himself weak and humble as the slave, the rich powerless as the poor, when two men forced room for themselves on my bench and by my side. One had the look of a low grog-shop keeper, the other of a whining street-beggar; both were shockingly, disgustingly filthy; both snorted and spat in the most frightful manner, and in the discomfort they caused me, I arrived at the conclusion that all men are equal—yes, except the clean and the dirty; and I fretted and fumed against the church officials who thus abandoned the faithful washed to the inroads of the faithless unwashed. Faithless unwashed!—it is written wittingly; for I cannot credit that piety will exist with filthiness of its own free will. No, sin and dirt are too often bosom friends; but cleanliness goes hand in hand with godliness.

I had, however, to bear and forbear with my unpleasant neighbors, whose propinquity induced a train of thoughts somewhat at variance with the solemnity I had come to witness. I remembered, among other discrepant subjects, the nickname given to the Spaniards by the Cubans, Patones—"Big-Feet"—which appellation has frequently been used in skirmishes between the insurgents and the Spanish troops as a battle-cry. Viva Cuba, y mueren los Patones! "Long live Cuba, and death to the Big-Feet!" the rebels would shout, and the soldiers, very naturally enraged at a personal defect being alluded to in such terms, would fight like insulted heroes. So I improved this opportunity, having a long row of Spaniards before me, to examine their lower extremities and judge for myself what truth there was in the discourteous designation. After a careful and impartial investigation, I believe that I can say with justice that, though they do not possess the exquisitely-formed, fairy-like little feet with which every Cuban, male and female, trips into this world, they yet cannot be accused of having large or clumsy ones. Most of the Spanish feet I saw were certainly much smaller than those of the English or Germans, resembling, perhaps, those of the French.

The toilettes of the ladies were even more ball-like than on Palm-Sunday; nearly every one wore low-necked dresses and short sleeves, and many white kid gloves. Rose-colored, pale blue, yellow, and white silk robes trimmed with lace and a multitude of bows, and sometimes disfigured by preposterous paniers, were general. The hair was artistically dressed and adorned with flowers, golden fillets, and bright ribbons, and the white or black lace mantilla thrown over the head was as small and transparent as possible.

At a quarter past eight, the bishop arrived with a numerous suite of clergy: as on Sunday, it was with difficulty he made his way through the sitting, kneeling, becrinolined, and betrained crowd that encumbered the centre of the church.

Very shortly after, a flourish of trumpets outside announced the coming of the captain-general. The great door was again thrown open, and he entered, preceded by the mace-bearers, and attended by Señor Don Dionisio Lopez Roberts, superior political governor of Havana, and a brilliant cortége of noblemen, gentlemen, and military and civil chiefs. When all were seated, the scene as viewed from my bench was very striking. The resplendent sepulchre; the illuminated altar, at which the mitred prelate and his assistant priests were officiating, all robed in white and gold; the long row of handsome uniforms on each side of the nave; the gay parterre of fair ladies, and the crowd of spectators of every shade of color from white to black that filled the spaces between the massive pillars and served as a background, all contributed to form a whole most picturesque and unique.

The beautiful service of Maundy-Thursday now commenced; during the celebration of it, the ceremony of blessing the holy oils was performed; and when the Gloria in excelsis was chanted, the bell was rung for the last time until Holy Saturday. At the elevation, I heard the silver staff of the pertiguero resound several times upon the pavement. The pertiguero is, like the perrero, a functionary peculiar to the cathedral; his duty is to enforce kneeling at the elevation on all strangers visiting that church at the moment. He carries a long silver staff, called a pertiga, which he strikes with a clang upon the marble floor when he perceives any one inattentive to the strict rule of the church—prostration in presence of the host.

After the mass, the blessed sacrament was carried in solemn procession to the sepulchre, the captain-general and the governor bearing the banner of the Agnus Dei, and all the grandees and municipality joining in it. The staves and cross-rods of the banner and of the magnificent dais held over the holy sacrament were all of silver, and appeared to be very heavy. The host was deposited in the sepulchre, which was then locked, and the golden key fastened to a chain suspended by the bishop around the neck of the captain-general, to be brought back to the church by him on Good-Friday. The beautiful hymn, Pange lingua, was sung very sweetly the whole time; the Latin, which seems so hard and harsh in our English pronunciation, sounding very grand and harmonious in these Spanish mouths.

The church cleared very rapidly after the mass; and when the last carriage had conveyed its last occupant home, no vehicle of any kind was permitted to pass through the streets of Havana. The soldiers now carried their arms reversed, and all Spanish flags were at half-mast. The city was in mourning.

I was taken possession of by some kind friends as I left the cathedral, and accompanied them to their house close by, where we found a welcome breakfast awaiting us. It consisted of fish and vegetables. We commenced with turtle-soup; but not of the kind so loved by Cockney aldermen, redolent of spiced force-meat balls and luscious green fat; this was an orthodox meagre soup, incapable of doing harm. Then came a nice fried fish called rabi rubio—red tail, and fried lobster, all hot, which, however, I did not like as well as boiled lobster cold with a mayonnaise sauce. To these succeeded shrimp fritters, roast turtle, and a very delicate fish, the pargo, the best in these seas, and sometimes caught as large as a large salmon, which it is not unlike in form. Our vegetables were white rice, eaten with black Mexican beans stewed; yam, yucca, and slices of green plantain fried of a fine gold color, and very delicious. Good bread, excellent claret, and native coffee with an aroma resembling that of the best Mocha, completed this agreeable repast, which had been enlivened by the pleasant conversation of an intelligent, generous-hearted Spaniard, and the smiles and jests of his pretty Cuban wife and children.

Breakfast over, my friend Pepilla and I, with the two eldest girls, Dolores and Luisita, sallied forth into the silent streets to visit some of the churches, previous to attending the ceremony of the Lavatorio—washing of feet—which was to be performed in the cathedral at three o'clock.

The quaint old church of San Juan de Dios was the first we entered. Its floor of hard-beaten earth was encumbered with kneeling worshippers, mostly colored, in earnest prayer before a figure as large as life, representing our blessed Saviour dressed in a dark purple velvet robe, embroidered with gold; his hands tied together with a rope; his head crowned with a gilded crown of thorns. Long black ringlets of shiny hair shaded his emaciated cheeks and fell far down on his shoulders behind.

The high altar, which is a curious work of bad taste, decorated with little carved wooden angels wearing black Hessian boots, was screened by hangings of gold and silver tinsel; and a gilded sepulchre, surrounded by a great number of wax tapers, to be lighted in the evening, was placed in front of it.

As we came out of the poor little church, a dirty negro boy, followed by a dozen others, ran by us in the street, making a great noise with a matraca, to the delight of his suite. This matraca is a piece of wood about eighteen inches long and ten wide; on each side of it are affixed one or two thick iron wires of the usual size and shape of those old-fashioned metal handles to drawers and trunks, which always used to slip out of their sockets when one gave a strong pull. When the instrument is shaken, these rattle against the wood, and in the hands of an adept, and all colored boys are such, made a terrible clatter. From the Gloria on Maundy-Thursday until the Gloria on Holy Saturday, matracas are employed instead of bells and clocks, and boys from the churches run through the streets with them, to announce each hour of the day.

The sepulchre at San Felipe, a church whose interior is remarkable for its air of bright cleanliness, was very tastefully arranged with flowers and tapers, and promised to look very brilliant when lighted up. There also was an image of our Saviour similar to that we had just seen.

At Santo Domingo, a large, handsome edifice, we found a magnificent sepulchre, in severer taste than the two we had visited. In one of the aisles, also, there was a group large as life, and painfully life-like. It represented our blessed Lord on the cross, the blood streaming from his nose and down his pale, thin cheeks from the wounds inflicted by the cruel thorns of his crown; a ghastly gash in his side; his hands tom by the dreadful nails; his wrists bruised and cut by the cords with which he had been bound; his knees so horribly scarified by being dragged over the rough ground that the bones of the joints were visible; his feet mangled, his whole body cut and scratched and discolored by stones and blows. At the foot of the cross stood the holy Virgin, tearless, but with so heart-broken an expression that to look at her was to weep. St. Mary Magdalen, her face pale, her eyes swollen and red, was kneeling near her. I could not bear the sight of this agony, and turned away, saying to myself, "Yes, it must have been like this!"

In each of these three churches a nun was sitting at a small table with a tray before her, to collect the charitable, voluntary offerings of visitors. This was the first time I had seen the slightest approach to money-asking in the Cuban churches. During the rest of the year there never are collections of any kind made in them. Nevertheless, the ladies of Havana are very ready to contribute, and do contribute liberally toward all religious and charitable purposes; but privately, not publicly. Indeed, both Spaniards and Cubans are remarkably compassionate and generous to the begging poor, whom they gently style Pordioseros—"For-God-sakers;" and whom they never send harshly away when unpleasantly importuned or unable to give, as we Anglo-Saxons so often do; but refuse with a soft Perdone, por Dios, hermano—"Pardon me, for God's sake, brother;" or, Perdone, por Dios, hermanita—"Pardon me, for God's sake, little sister."

It was now time to return to the cathedral to secure places to see the Lavatorio. We found but few persons there yet, and consequently had a choice of seats. Some colored men were busy placing an image of our Saviour, similar to that we had seen in the church of San Juan de Dios, on one of the altars in the southern aisle, and it was touching to see the veneration and love with which one or other of them would raise from time to time a ringlet of the shiny black hair and kiss it.

Just before three o'clock two long benches were set on the epistle side of the altar, and presently a large number of youths, attired in dark red robes, entered the chancel—students from the Seminario de San Carlos, the theological college attached to the cathedral.

The beautiful anthem that is chanted during the ceremony of the washing of feet, Mandatum novum do vobis, "A new command I give unto you," contains the distinctive precept of our pure and holy religion, "Love one another;" and I could not help thinking, when the Bishop of Havana girded himself with a linen napkin and knelt humbly to do his lowly task, that he looked as if it were to him a real labor of love, so charitable an expression was there in his eyes, such venerable grace in his manner. He was assisted by several priests, one of whom carried a large silver basin, another a silver ewer full of water. The water was poured over one foot only; the prelate knelt as he wiped it, and then kissing it, rose and passed to the foot of the next boy, and so on. When all were washed and wiped, the bishop, looking heated and tired, resumed the white and gold chasuble he had laid aside, and, crowned with his mitre, took his seat in front of the high altar, surrounded by his clergy.

The sermon then commenced; the subject was, as always on this day, the institution of the holy eucharist. The preacher was a rather young man, of agreeable aspect, earnest in gesture and manner. His voice was loud and clear, and the magnificent Spanish language resounded in harmonious and eloquent periods through the vaulted nave. I remembered, as I listened admiringly, the old Spanish boast that theirs is the tongue in which the Almighty can be least unworthily addressed, and it did not seem to me so vain and unmeaning as I once deemed it.

With the conclusion of the sermon, all the joy and love that had marked the first part of the services of Holy Thursday disappeared, and grief and mourning now began again. Vespers and the Tenebræ were chanted, and then the faithful withdrew.

In the evening all the inhabitants of Havana poured into the streets: the captain-general, attended by his staff; the bishop, followed by his clergy; the governor and the municipality; the various corporations; large family parties, and bands of young men and boys; all went from one illuminated church to another, seven being the prescribed number, to kneel before the splendid sepulchres, and pray with more or less devotion. And having accomplished this duty, all adjourned to the Plaza de Armas, a handsome square, on one side of which is the palace of the captain-general, for the retreta; that is, to promenade while they listened to the military band, which played some sacred music very finely, and to eat ices, the pious taking care that theirs were water-ices.

The brilliant moon of the tropics lighted up the scene, making all visible as in the day, but with softer tones; beneath her beams the beautiful eyes of the ladies seemed of a more velvety black, and their white teeth glistened whiter between their smiling lips. A gentle breeze, laden with the sweet odors peculiar to night in Cuba, sighed in the leafy boughs of the Laurel de India, and all seemed to me peace and good-will among men, until I overheard one Creole lady say to another, "Your husband was a Spaniard, I believe?"

"I have been the wife of two Spaniards," replied the Cubana; "but I am happy to say that I have buried them both!"

So I returned to my home deeply meditating on the loveliness of nature and the perversity of mankind.