An early drive?—?Visit to Churches?—?The Cathedral?—?dash;?Description?—?Reflections?—?Church of the Binondo Quarter?—?The Dead Child?—?Baptism?—?Life's Entrances and Exit?—?Ceremony of taking the Veil?—?Poor Maraquita?—?An Episode?—?Don CÆsar de Bazan?—?Interior of the Convent?—?Interview with the Lady Superior?—?Interchange of compliments?—?Spanish Courtesy?—?An admission.

Sunday morning, took an early drive upon one of the beautiful roads that penetrate the interior of this fruitful island, and returned with a keen appetite for breakfast; this dispatched, drove with a party to visit the churches.

Went first within the walls to the Cathedral. Mass was over, and they were about to close the church. Had an opportunity, however, to obtain a hasty look at its interior.

It is very spacious and very grand, the roof supported by pillars about twelve feet in thickness. No galleries.

The principal altar was quite imposing, and upon it, plate of considerable value was exposed.

There are also other altars, and a number of chapels inclosed.

A full length figure of our Saviour, after His Descent from the Cross, is extended in a glass case beneath one of the altars, exciting grateful emotion for that love which caused Him to lay down His life for man, but not a proper subject, in my opinion, for exhibition.The divine mission of Christ, its object, His self-humiliation, denials, struggles, sufferings and sacrifice, cannot be too often presented to our minds, nor too eloquently told. His Gospel cannot lose by repetition, and His life should be our grand exemplar! But the image of the Incarnate Godhead should never be associated with the waxen figure of a revolting corpse, nor should the hand of the creature, however skilful, attempt the presentment of the Great Creator. If Christ took upon Himself to become man, after He had performed His mission, and laid aside the form which He had assumed in which to perform the work of eternity, His carnal attributes should be swallowed up in the glory of His Being, and the mind should be taught to look up from the humiliation of the grave, and follow, with awe, the hand that rent the vail of the Temple in twain, up to the mercy seat, whence he ascended to plead for his murderers!

There was here an altar, on which the representation of a vine, with clusters of grapes was very elaborately cut, also a statue of an apostle, in wood, very naturally carved, and a conspicuous object.

Entered another church, outside the walls, in the Binondo Quarter. This was not so large as the Cathedral, nor as imposing, but it was crowded with worshippers, principally Indians of the Tagalo tribe. They were in every posture of devotion, telling their beads, and praying with apparent fervor. Indeed they appeared very zealous converts.

At the entrance to this church of the Binondo was exposed the corpse of a child of about seven or eight years. It was fantastically dressed and laid out upon a litter. To the left of this "memento mori" which appeared to produce but little effect, were quite a number of matrons, holding very young infants in their arms, awaiting their turn for baptism; on some of these baby's heads they had placed wigs!

It was a strange sight, and one in which the entrances and the exits of the stage of life were exhibited—that dead child, flanked by those newly breathing infants!

Had been told that the ceremony of taking the veil would come off that afternoon at a convent within the city walls, but the information was received too late, for, after hastening to the house of our hospitable friends, with whom we drove at once to the convent, found the ceremony over. The vicinity of the convent was all astir, and we saw a number of ladies, and heard some good music from a fine band, which, although the airs were gay, must, we thought, have had a mournful sound in the ears of the poor renouncing soul, henceforth to be immured within those gloomy walls. But no one appeared to care for her, all was life and gayety without, one would have thought some marriage fÊte was being celebrated, that those joy notes sounded for the binding of the holiest and dearest tie, had he not known their melody jarred upon heart-strings rudely severed, and ties for ever broken. But she was married, yes, married to the church! Poor Maraquita, thy fate was melancholy, and thy story a sad one, but one too often told of the warm-eyed and passionate maidens of this "land of the sun."

She had loved, her family opposed. Her lover was beneath her in condition, yet she loved him still the dearer. In these countries, for a daughter to think of mating without consent of priests and parents, is sacrilege. She was guilty of it, her proud and haughty mother had destined Maraquita to be the bride of a wealthy grandee of old Spain—had disposed of those affections, no longer in Maraquita's power to give, for they had already been transferred with all the other treasures of a young and loving heart, to the keeping of a dark-eyed youth of Manilla. He had been rudely repulsed by her parents, but often would the cautious twang of his guitar bring her to a midnight interview. These clandestine meetings were interrupted. Her dark-eyed lover no longer came, and she was told she would never see him more. A marriage with the Don was urged, she resisted—the alternative was a convent! In pity she implored a short delay, and then convinced that her lover had suffered from her cruel parents' jealousy, gave the vows of her broken heart to the church. And that music is her requiem, and his too! For after those vows had been pronounced, and the black veil had shut out hope for ever, a haggard youth was released from confinement, of whose few and ill-starred years the turbid waters of the Pasig soon washed away all trace.

Poor Maraquita! Poor Carlos! I know not whose fate the most to deplore—

With the narrator of this sad tale of passion and despair, I dropped a tear to their memory, thinking how truly the poet of all time has written—

The foregoing was not related at the time, but afterwards, by a young Spanish gentleman, who had taken some pains to enable us to witness the ceremony. I had hardly expected to hear a serious story from his lips, for his appearance was reckless and gay, and I had associated him in my mind with the character of Don CÆsar de Bazan, as I had seen it illustrated.

He introduced us further into the convent than I would have ventured upon my own responsibility—appeared at home with all the priests towards whom his manner conveyed but little reverence—and inquiring if we had any desire to see the nuns, went up to an opening in which there was a revolving frame, and asked for the Lady Superior. The lady mother soon presented her round and not unhandsome form at a door to the right, and in choice Italian demanded our business. With much nonchalance Don C. expressed a desire to pay his respects to the ladies under her charge, especially to the one just admitted. His coolness somewhat disconcerted the supreme lady Abbess, to whom such a request had never before been preferred, I warrant, and her black eyes sparkled with scarcely a holy fire, as she answered this time in Spanish, and in the tone of dignity which that language can convey so well, "That the nuns were in their place, and the new one did not receive company, especially that of such gay cavaliers," and intimated that in attending to their duties they set an example which would be well followed by those cavaliers.

Don CÆsar, his sang froid still retaining its temperature, with the grave courtesy of a true Spaniard, bowing almost to the floor, told her, "Heaven was the proper place for angels such as her noble self and her illustrious daughters," and wishing the whole family a pleasant journey thither, commended them to God. "Adios!" and the door was closed a little hastily.

After this interchange of compliments, Don CÆsar took us to his father's house, within the walls near the convent, where he gave us introductions to his sisters, cousins, and other ladies, all under the excitement of the event of the day.

The old gentleman placed, with the usual Spanish compliment, his house, and all that it contained in our hands. And when I state, that like Jephtha, he "had a daughter who was passing fair," my sensations can be imagined, and it may be understood how small a portion of the "Casa," with this appurtenance, would have satisfied me.