“Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast
   The fatal gift of beauty.”

Art rivaled here.  Thy gorgeous skies have floated hither, and hover like a halo round the town.  The sun had set; the glowing tints faded fast, till of the brilliant spectacle naught remained save the soft roseate hue which melted insensibly into the deep azure of the zenith.  Quiet seemed settling o’er mountain and river, when, with a solemn sweetness, the vesper bells chimed out on the evening air.  Even as the Moslem kneels at sunset toward the “Holy City,” so punctiliously does the devout papist bend for vesper prayers.  Will you traverse with me the crooked streets, and stand beneath the belfry whence issued the holy tones?

This ancient edifice was constructed in 1692.  It fronted the Plaza, and was a long, narrow building, flanked, as it were, by wings lower than the main apartment, and surmounted by a dome, in which were five or six bells.  This dome or belfry was supported by pillars, and in the intervening openings were placed the bells.  The roof was flat, and the dark green and gray moss clung along the sides.  The interior presented a singular combination of art and rudeness; the seats were of unpainted pine, and the cement floor between was worn irregularly by the knees of devout attendants.  The railing of the altar was of carved mahogany, rich and beautiful.  Over this division of the long room hung a silken curtain, concealing three niches, which contained an image of the “Virgin,” the “Child,” and in the center one, a tall gilt cross.  Heavy silver candlesticks were placed in front of each niche, and a dozen candles were now burning dimly.  A variety of relics, too numerous to mention, were scattered on the altar, and in addition, several silver goblets, and a massive bowl for holding “holy water.”  A few tin sconces, placed against the wall, were the only provision for lighting that dark, gloomy church, and dreary enough it looked in the twilight hour.  About a dozen devotees were present, all kneeling on the damp, hard floor.  The silk curtain which concealed the altar was drawn aside, with due solemnity, by two boys habited in red flannel petticoats, over which hung a loose white slip.  The officiating priest was seen kneeling before the altar, with his lips pressed to the foot of the cross.  He retained his position for several moments, then rising, conducted the ceremonies in a calm, imposing manner.  When these were concluded, and all had departed save the two boys, who still knelt before the Virgin, he beckoned them to him, and speaking a few words in Spanish, ended by pointing to the door and uttering, emphatically, “Go.”  Crossing themselves as they passed the images, they disappeared through a side door, and the priest was left alone.

CHAPTER V.

     * * * “He was a man
  Who stole the livery of the court of heaven
  To serve the devil in; in Virtue’s guise,
  Devoured the widow’s house and orphan’s bread;
  In holy phrase, transacted villanies
  That common sinners durst not meddle with.”