Castellon de la Plana,
where there is a yearly procession in honour of Santa Maria Magdalena,
somewhat curious scenes take place. The Magdalen, in the days of her
sin, is acted by a girl chosen for her beauty, but not for her
character. She is gorgeously attired, and is allowed to retain her dress
and ornaments after the performance. She is installed in state in a cart
decorated with palms and flowers, and is surrounded by all the men of
the village on foot, for it is part of the performance that they are
allowed to say what they please to her. She acts the part to perfection
apparently, and enjoys it, to boot. In another car comes the penitent
Magdalen, dressed in pure white, and decorated with flowers. This part
may be taken only by a young girl of unblemished character. It is
thought the greatest honour that can be paid to her, and you are told by
the people that she is always married within the year. This procession
winds its way up the mountain to a small shrine of Santa Maria
Magdalena, where it is said that her church once stood; but finding the
climb up the hill was inconvenient to the lame and the aged, she very
considerately, one night, moved the whole edifice down intact to
Castellon de la Plana, where it now stands.

Going by rail once, many years ago, to Toledo, to see the processions on
Good Friday, the train was accidentally delayed for some time a little
distance from one of the stations, and there, in a small garden by the
roadside, was being enacted the scene of the Crucifixion by human
actors. A full-size cross was erected, and on it, apparently, hung a man
crowned with thorns, and with head bowed upon his breast. In reality he
was kneeling on two ledges placed for the purpose at a convenient
distance from the cross-bars. It was cold, and the actor was covered by
an old brown tattered cloak, such as the peasants wear now, and which we
see in Velasquez's pictures. His feet stuck out behind the cross, but
his arms were tied in a position which must soon have become painful.
Around lay a cock tied by his legs, a ladder, a sponge tied on a stick,
a sword, a lantern, and all the usual emblems of the Passion. The holy
women and the Roman soldiers with their spears were just coming out of
the cottage near by to take up their positions in this strange and
pathetic _tableau_. The face of that peasant in the tattered brown
cloak, not less than the spectacle of the people kneeling around in
evident sorrow and w