mes, and extending the hands as if in the act of
imploring the compassion of their friends. In truth, in order to see
this there is no need to go to Spain; for even in London, that great
centre of civilization, and at a few paces from Temple-bar, some of these
impious caricatures are exhibited for the edification of the English
public.

On the day of All Souls (_el dia de difuntos_), in Spain, we find
exhibited in the churches the most disgusting representations, such as
human bones, skulls, and entire skeletons; the churches are kept in
profound darkness; and nothing is omitted to inspire terror and move the
hearts of the devout. In the middle of the church is placed a large
table with a silver plate, two immense wax candles, lighted, and some of
the figures just alluded to. A priest, seated by the table, is
imploring, in the most pitiful language, the generosity of the
attendants. "He who puts a half-dollar in this plate," said the priest
in one of the churches in Cadiz, "draws out a soul from purgatory." An
Andalusian, as great an epigrammatist and jester as are generally the
natives of that agreeable province, on one of these occasions took out
from his purse his half-dollar, and put it on the plate, saying that his
intention was to rescue the soul of his father. At the end of a moment
or two he asked the priest if the soul of his father was now drawn out of
purgatory, and on being answered by the oracle in the affirmative, very
quietly re-took possession of his coin, with this pungent observation,
"Very well then, my father is not such a fool as to return to purgatory
after having succeeded in entering heaven." Ridiculous and irreverent as
this incident may appear, it cannot be denied that the logic contained in
it is irresistible.

In every parish in Spain there is a confraternity of souls (_hermandad de
animas_), whose treasure is composed not only of the contributions of the
faithful, but of vast properties and metallic recompenses called
_censos_, which always, in fact, consist of available money. The pious
legacies (_mandas piadosas_), which abound in all the provinces of Spain,
form a capital of incalculable amount. They call _mandas piadosas_ those
rustic or urban securities which have been left by testators with the
sole object of investing their products in masses to be said for the
dead. The church receives these proceeds, and pays for the masses. It
often occurs that the number of those masse