black mantilla of the fashionable lady, who holds her fan over her face to shade it from the departing rays of the sun. Monks of all colors flit through the crowd in every direction. Here the padre, with his huge hat à la Basile, elbows the Franciscan in his blue gown, silken cord, girdle, and large white felt hat; there goes the Dominican in his lugubrious costume of black and white, reminding one of Torquemada, the founder of the Inquisition; farther on, the brown drugget of the Capuchin contrasts with the white flowing robes of the Brother of Mercy. Incidents of different kinds occur continually in this motley crowd, and serve to keep one's attention alive. Sometimes, as the drum in the barracks are beating a salute, the folding doors of a sagrario[1] suddenly fly open, and there issues forth a carriage splendidly gilt, the slow toll of the bell is heard along with the harsh rattle of the drum, and the whole crowd uncover, and kneel with bent head to the holy sacrament which they are carrying to a dying man. Woe betide the foreigner, though bold and resolute, who, ignorant of the profound respect which the Mexican pays to his religious rites, fails to bow the knee to the host as it passes! Some times a military detachment of six officers, escorted by three soldiers and preceded by a dozen musicians, is seen marching into the square in all the majesty of military pomp; it is to proclaim a bando (law or edict) of the highest authority, for which all this display of military music and brocaded uniforms is deemed necessary. Such at this time of the evening is the general appearance of the Plaza Mayor, that square where the people of Mexico, the sovereign people (as their flatterers call them), flutter in rags, ceaselessly en-
- ↑ Sagrario, the part in a church where the host is kept.
