small, spirited steeds decked in shining trappings, with heavy
Gothic-shaped spurs, half the weight of the riders.

It is a curious scene to contemplate all this motley crowd, as the first
sweet tone of the great bell of the cathedral--and the sweetest sound
from brass and silver ever heard--gives forth its prolonged and
melancholy cadence for _oracion_. As if touched by the wand of a
magician, the busy hum of life is hushed--mules and donkeys halt of
their own accord, and with drooping ears and bended necks, appear
absorbed in prayer. The man who is yelling _Fresquita_! with all his
might, stops miraculously short at the half-uttered word in the highest
note--venders and the disciples of Abraham cease barter--horsemen draw
bridle--these gay _berlinas_ pause, and their fair inmates with jewelled
fingers tell their beads, and rosy lips arrest the dimpling
smiles--lovers silence the soft whispers to blushing _amantes_--the
whirr of loom and spindle weaving the golden threads is checked--hats
and heads are borne low, and every vestige of animation is
suspended--all is beautifully impressive. A minute! The _ave_ is
uttered--the heavy bell sounds twice--thrice--then the deafening and
rejoicing peals ring from towers far and near. Crack! falls the cruel
lash on the devout donkey's hide--_arre!_ shouts the arrieros--_quita!_
screams the dulce-man--_Tres pesos el menor!_ wheedles the Jew--off
glide the gilded vehicles--away gallop capering barbs--the artisans
resume the mazy windings of the reel or shuttle--the lover and his
mistress again become smiling and pathetic--and again goes on the roar
and turmoil of a populous town.

On the right bank of the Rimac are two promenades, neither particularly
well shaded, but the Alemeda nearest the river is most frequented and
pleasant.

During feast days, or after the Sunday bull-fights in the arena near at
hand, it is customary for the elite of Lima to appear in full dress,
enshrined within the glass panels of their pretty _berlinas_, and take a
stand along the drive, beneath the drooping willows. Nor is it
considered indecorous, if you have friends or acquaintances among those
lovely dames, to doff your castor and touch the tips of their ungloved,
rosy fingers, and may be, hear the number of their _palco_ at the
evening opera--or, where the _tertulia_ is given, and what a charming
bouquet it was you sent--and other agreeable pleasantries. Have a care,
my gringo! button your coat ti