On Palm Sunday morning, we went to the Cathedral to see the great function of the blessing of the palms. The church is very large--the largest in the island--and built in the usual Hispano-American style, with a squat dome in the middle, and two rather fine towers on each side of the façade. The nave is of unusual width, and the side chapels, of which there are a great number, are full of rare marbles, and splendid mahogany woodwork. The stalls in the magnificent choir and the seats throughout the church are all made of solid deep red mahogany; the edifice otherwise presents nothing of interest, excepting the priestly vestments, very fine specimens of old Spanish needlework. We found the church packed, most of the ladies being in deep mourning, but in low-necked dresses, which, at so early an hour, produced a startling effect. It afforded us an opportunity for a most interesting study of feminine shoulders, varying in tint from the snowy white of the Creola, to the dainty olive of the mulatress, and the ebony black of the ladies who originally hailed from the Congo. The stately ceremonies, on this solemn occasion, were exactly the same as those in all other Catholic churches throughout the world. The priests, however, carried some very fine palm branches, their long fronds tipped with gold tinsel. In the afternoon there was a sermon preached by a fiery little Capuchin monk, who banged his hands on the edge of the pulpit with such force that I am sure they must have been black and blue by the time he had finished.