ake station near the door we shall be presented
with the spectacle of several hundred backs in a kneeling position--that
is, the individuals to whom the backs belong will be found kneeling.

These backs are by no means alike--no more than faces are. They are of
all shapes, and sizes, and colours, and classes in the social scale.
You will see the backs of ladies in shawls--some of whom have permitted
that elegant garment to fall to the shoulders, while others retain it
over the crowns of their heads, thus creating two very distinct styles
of back. You will see the backs of pretty poblanas, with the end of
their rebosos hanging gracefully over them; and the back of the
poblana's mother with the reboso ill arranged, and not over clean. You
will see the back of the merchant scarcely covered with a short cloth
jacket, and the back of the "aguador" cased in well-worn leather; the
back of the "guapo" muffled in a cloak of fine broad-cloth, and that of
the "lepero" shrouded in a ragged scrape; and then you will see broad
backs and slender ones, straight backs and crooked ones; and you run a
good chance of beholding a hunch or two--especially if the church be in
a large town. But wheresoever you enter a Mexican iglesia during
prayer-time, I promise you the view of an extensive assortment of backs.
Not classified, however. Quite the contrary. The back of the shawled
lady may be inclusive between two greasy rebosos, and the striped or
speckled back of the lepero may rise up alongside the shining
broad-cloth of the dandy! I do not answer for any classification of the
backs; I only guarantee their extensive number and variety. The only
face that is likely to confront you at this moment will be the shaven
phiz of a fat priest, in full sacerdotal robes of linen, that were once,
no doubt, clean and white, but that look now as if they had been sent to
the buck-basket, and by some mistake brought back before reaching the
laundry. This individual, with a look as unlike heaven as the wickedest
of his flock, will be seen stirring about on his little stage; now
carrying a wand--now a brazen pot of smoking "incense," and anon some
waxen doll--the image of a saint; while in the midst of his
manipulations you may hear him "murmuring" a gibberish of ill-pronounced
Latin. If you have witnessed the performance of M. Robin, or the "Great
Wizard," you cannot fail to be reminded of them at this moment.

The tinkling of a little bell, which