The funeral processions are rather singular; and the interment of a child particularly would appear to be the season of rejoicing rather than grief. On these occasions the musical performers are the most choice and costly. The corpse is never kept more than one day from the time of the demise, and the funeral rites are usually celebrated after dark; every one that chooses enlisting into the procession by the acceptance of a wax-light. At a funeral which I saw at the Carmo, a large and handsome church adjoining the royal chapel, two lines of persons were ranged along the body of the building, from the entrance towards the altar, facing each other, every one holding a wax-light, nearly six feet high, in the right hand, and projected rather forward. Some of the individuals of this assembly might be friends of the deceased, but the major part consisted of persons casually met with in the streets, or such as were led by curiosity into the church. The acceptance of a light is deemed an honour done to the friends of the dead, and the agents of the padres are not very scrupulous in forcing them, if possible, into the hands of every one they see; the motive for doing this is ascertained on knowing that the remainder of all candles which are used become the perquisite of those very _worthy_ brethren. At the head of the two lines, amounting to perhaps from one hundred to one hundred and fifty persons, the corpse was placed upon a table or elevated platform, with the head exposed to view, while its last vestments displayed the ill-founded notion of importance which its survivors attach to outward and meretricious show. The ceremony of itself not being calculated to impress the mind with awe, none of those feelings of respectful gravity were visible, which so solemn an occasion ought to have produced. When it was finished, the body was conducted, with no regular procession, through some outer avenues of the church, to the catacombs, situated in a passage opposite to the jesuitical library. On arriving at an inner cemetery of the catacombs, the lights of those who followed were extinguished and taken from them by the persons whose duty it was to secure this perquisite; and every one retiring in consequence, the body disappeared by some other avenue, and I could not possibly discover how it was afterwards disposed of. Upon another occasion of the funeral obsequies of a general officer, I attempted to see their mode of executing this last office; but, from the quickness with which they slid away, and the extinguishing of the lights, I was again disappointed. A friend, however, gave me the following description of the interment of a girl, at which he was present. After the ceremony and the music had ceased, they proceeded from the said church of Our Lady of Carmo to the catacombs, where he arrived, with two or three others, at that point of the cemetery which was to receive the remains. The padres had disappeared, and no one was