The moment comes
to elevate the Host, thump goes the drum, the guard presents arms, and
the soldiers, instead of kneeling, bend forward, in a most
uncomfortable manner. Another thump, and all that is over; the swords
are returned to their sheaths, and soon, the loud music coming to an
end, the regiment marches out of church, very much as it marched in,
its devotional experiences being known to Heaven alone. Ladies and
lovers look their last, the flounces rise in pyramids, the
prayer-carpets are rolled up, and, with a silken sweep and rush, Youth,
Beauty, and Fashion forsake the church, where Piety has hardly been,
and go home to breakfast. To that comfortable meal you also betake
yourself, musing on the small heads and villanous low foreheads of the
Spanish soldiery, and wondering how long it would take a handful of
resolute Yankees to knock them all into--But you are not a filibuster,
you know.
THE PASEO--THE PLAZA--DINING OUT.
"As this Sunday is Carnival, you cannot do better than drive about the
city, and then go to the Plaza to see the masks. My partner's wife,
with whom you have now so comfortably breakfasted, will call for you in
her _volante_, between five and six o'clock. She will show you the
Paseo, and we will go and see the masks afterwards.
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