th gold. This shrine was locked, and as one of the
little altar boys unfastened the double doors, we noticed the pictures
on either side. To the left was Saint Joseph with the child Jesus in
his arms; on the right, Mary, sweet and sad-eyed, the premonition of
Gethsemane in her tender smile.

When the white doors had been unlocked and lifted off their hinges,
a door of silver was discovered. On being opened, it revealed an
interior so rich as to surprise a simultaneous exclamation of delight
from us all. Gold and silver predominated in the decorations, and
in the midst of this splendour stood a little figure about twelve or
fourteen inches high, its back turned toward us as it faced the dark
interior of the church so far below. A pale blue curtain was drawn
over the front of the shrine, but we fortunate ones in the little
chapel were looking at the Holy Child more intimately; from the back,
to be sure, but so close that we could have touched him with our hands.

On the day of our visit the little figure was attired in a flowing
coronation robe of crimson velvet, richly encrusted with elaborate
gold embroidery, and while we were admiring this work of art, the
priest slowly and very reverently turned the Holy Child around on
his pedestal until he faced us squarely.

He is not beautiful--the Santo Nino--nor does he even faintly resemble
our conception of the Christ-child. His face is flat and lifeless,
carved very roughly out of some dark wood, which, when contrasted with
his rich vestments and ornamentation, seems strangely incongruous. From
out of this brown face, eyes painted a vivid blue stare straight
into one's own. Around his cheeks fall golden curls. This is not a
figure of speech, but a reality, for the curls are of solid metal,
the locks of hair being pressed into it like the china hair on the
dolls of our childhood.

These golden locks were surmounted by a golden crown. In one wooden
hand he held a golden globe with the cross of Catholicism above it,
and in the other a golden staff, both of his hands being covered by
long golden gauntlets. Right under his feet, which I have no doubt
were booted in that precious metal, although they were hidden by the
coronation robe, was a gold encrusted medallion containing the tiny
bone relics of eight Christian martyrs. Never have I seen anything so
barbarically splendid as that little Santo Nino, with his brown wooden
face and bright blue eyes, for all the shining metal s