Great veneration is paid to all that concerns this ceremony of the Holy Ghost: the very mules, it is said, were formerly looked upon as sacred. In passing coffee-houses, billiard-players, and gamblers of all descriptions, leave their profane games, to kneel. At the theatre, the performance is stopped; actors and actresses kneel on the stage, and the audience upon their seats. I have several times been present at scenes of this sort, and regarded them with great curiosity; though I have been very angry with the holy father, and impious enough to wish he had taken another route. I recollect, during an opera, one evening, the cavalcade passed no less than three times, and interrupted a delightful duet between Rosquellas and Señora Tani. The summer of 1824-5, judging from the frequent appearance of the Holy Ghost in the streets, must have been rather a sickly one. Great respect is still paid to this holy visitant, who generally selects the evening to pay his visits. A smile will now and then take place, when the procession suddenly appears in a crowded neighbourhood, forcing all to bend the knee. The contrast of such Catholic customs with those of our sober England often occurs to me. I am informed that great preparations take place in the sick chamber, where the sacrament is to be given. I do not admire this. The patient, enfeebled by disease, concludes there is no hope left; and often yields to despair. In England, on such occasions, a clergyman comes without pomp or attendants: his attentions are more like those of a friend, and he insensibly prepares the mind of the sufferer for the purposes of his visit. But we have much to correct in the dismal funeral bell, closing shops and windows, usual with us at burials. Life hourly presents enough to remind us of death, without those auxiliaries. * * * * * FUNERAL CEREMONIES.--The room in which a corpse is deposited is lighted; large candles are placed round the coffin; and the wainscoting, tables, &c. are covered with white furniture, crosses, &c. The windows are often thrown open, for passengers to view the scene of death, as a warning that "to this complexion we must come at last." I remember my surprise on first seeing a spectacle of this sort. The corpse of a female about thirty lay shrouded in her coffin, the lid of which was taken off, with her hands folded over her breast, and a small cross placed between them. The gaudy coffin, and the lights around it, gave it the appearance of wax work; indeed, I had an impression that it was so, for some minutes, not being aware of the country's fashion in this affair.