us munificence of Don
Andre Almonoster. Connected with the building is a story curious and
romantic, and from all I could learn no less true. When Don Andre
died, he exacted of the priesthood the positive injunction, that every
Saturday evening prayer should be offered up for his soul, and in
default thereof the property was to pass into other hands. From that
day to this, in fulfilling these extraordinary stipulations, not a
solitary omission has been made. And as you stand about sundown at
the Cathedral, you will hear the doleful bell mournfully recalling the
memory of the departed Don Andre! I was there at that hour. The dark
and frowning church towered far above me. The deep-toned bell echoed
its mournful sound until twilight began to mantle the city with her
sable curtains. I thought of Don Andre. I thought of his injunction;
I thought of his soul, and I turned from the consecrated place with
feelings the most singular and solemn.

The edifice in appearance is grand, antique and venerable. Judging
from the disregard to repairs, I should conclude it was designed for
it to remain so. Built of brick, with very thick walls and stuccoed,
it nevertheless looks black and dingy, all which assists to make it
more imposing to the stranger. A large door in the middle will let you
into the ante-chamber, and from this by a door on the right and one
on the left, you enter the immense chapel. Passing by two large marble
basins filled with holy water, where devotees sprinkle and cross
themselves upon entering; you are by the side of the "confession
boxes." There are three on each side, each about ten feet high and
eight feet square, with three apartments or stalls; the middle one for
the priest, the other two for those wishing to lay down their burden
of sins. The priest standing in the middle hears an account of the
transgressions of the one on the right through a small grated window,
while the one on the left is kneeling until his fellow-sufferer gets
through. All that can be heard is a low whispering and murmuring
throughout all the confessional boxes, where six priests are
continually officiating. When the penitent is dismissed by the holy
father, he appears to be a happier man, and on coming out of the box
immediately kneels before the altar, and another person takes his
place.

This system of confession is often denounced; I do not pretend to
defend it, but there is much excuse for it. What Protestant is there
who in deep