their slavery is now almost nominal, for many
privileges have been granted to them by. the
government, and before long this stain upon
the country—once a very deep one—will be
totally erased.

On one side of the market-place stands a
gloomy building which gives its name to the
square—the Plazuela de la Inquisicion. But
the Inquisition has long been banished from the
land, and its deserted palace now looks sullenly
over the busy market, once the scene of many
a terrible martyrdom; for here were performed
the fearful " acts of faith." Now, the
only faggots to be seen are those brought from
the mountains to serve as fuel for cooking
our Christmas dinner.

Upon the ground of the square are heaped
great piles of fruit, plump, juicy melons,
yellow plantains, luscious grapes, and fragrant
limes. Baskets of crimson chilis and red-hot
love-apples shine conspicuously among the
green heaps of vegetables. Scattered round
are monster yams and feathery corn-cobs,
oranges, ripe dates and cocoa-nuts. The
butchers' stalls display their stores of beef
and mutton; and rows of fowls and turkeys
promise plenty of good Christmas cheer. In
the great square the flower-market displays a
richly scented bouquet, such as Lima only can
produce. Upon a large green leaf rests a foundation
of small, beautifully-coloured fruits; above
them glows a posy of bright flowers tastefully
arranged, giving forth a most delicious
fragrance, and brightened by a sprinkling of
some delicate perfume. The whole is crowned
by a single fruit, on which the sun has
lavished all those soft, yet brilliant hues
unknown beyond the tropics. One of these
much esteemed pucheros de flores is the
most acceptable present to be offered to
the Lima ladies; who are. all passionately
fond of perfumes. Pastiles are constantly
burning in their houses, and showers of
scented water frequently salute their visitors,
who receive such marks of attention as high
compliments.

By eight o'clock the markets are almost
deserted, and at nine the bell gives notice of
the elevation of the host during the celebration
of high mass. The scene at evening
prayers is reacted, and again the whole city is
wrapped in momentary silence; not a whisper
nor a footfall sounds in the crowded streets.
Every festival in Lima is marked by a
religious procession, and the frequent repetition
of these shows, does not appear to lessen
in the slightest degree the intense gratification
which they afford to the inhabitants.
The festival of St. Rose, the patron saint of
the city, and the twenty-eighth of October,
the anniversary of the great earthquake of
1746, are especially noted for the magnificent
ceremonies with which they are celebrated,
and Christmas Day is always inaugurated by
one of these splendid spectacles. In the
church of San Domingo, which almost equals
the cathedral in grandeur, is a beautiful
marble statue of St. Rose, richly decorated
with gold and precious stones.

By this time the bells of each of the fifty
churches in the city are clanging most
discordantly, and the people are flocking in
thousands towards the cathedral. Outside in
the square, is marshalled the army of the
republic, consisting of some two thousand
men, who always form a prominent feature
in the processions. At length there issues
forth a long train of monks chanting psalms,
each bearing in his hand a taper, and dressed
in the habit of his order. At intervals appear
the statues of the Saints, decked in all
their rich ornaments, resting on a small platform,
covered with thick velvet hangings, and
borne by eight or ten strong negroes. On each
side marches a line of soldiers fully employed
in keeping off the eager populace, who throng
around the statues, shouting with delight.
The roofs and balconies are covered with
spectators, strewing flowers upon the passing
cortege; and the disguised tapadas flit about
the procession throwing on the monks the
most bewitching glances, tempting them to
look aside, and lose their grave demeanour
for a moment, and then instantly assailing
them with showers of laughing, taunts, and
biting jests, to which the good fathers must
fain submit in quiet, or try to drown them
with their psalmody.

In the middle of the train comes the figure
of the Madonna, bearing the holy child; and
behind it, the archbishop walks beneath a
silken canopy, heavy with golden fringe. In
a rich casket he carries the holy sacrament,
and, as he passes, the noisy multitude is
hushed in its sacred presence, and every head
uncovers, and every knee is bent, in silent
adoration. The president of the republic,
with his ministers and generals, in their
gorgeous uniforms, relieve the dark dresses of
the monks; the military bands play in the
procession, and a regiment of mounted lancers,
with long streaming pennons, finishes the
array.

So far our Christmas day has been, well
spent, but now there comes a blot upon it;
though to the Limeña that blot is its greatest
beauty and its chief attraction. It is a bull-
fight, to which barbarous amusement the
latter part of the day is always devoted.
During the season these exhibitions are
of almost weekly occurrence, and Monday
being usually set apart for them, that day
becomes a general holiday. The excitement
that prevails on these occasions is astonishing.
The bull-fight is the sole topic of conversation;
for the Peruvians are more enthusiasti-
cally attached to this sport than even the old
Spaniards, and Lima surpasses her ancient
mistress, Madrid, in the number and splendour
of these national diversions. The Christmas
bull-fight is commonly the best of the
season, and eight or ten bulls are frequently
killed on that day, besides several horses,
and not unfrequently one or two of the