No people are more punctual in their attendance upon public worship, or more exact {257} in the performance of the external rites of religion, than the New Mexicans. A man would about as soon think of venturing in twenty fathoms of water without being able to swim, as of undertaking a journey without hearing mass first. These religious exercises, however, partake but seldom of the character of true devotion; for people may be seen chattering or tittering while in the act of crossing themselves, or muttering [Pg047] some formal prayer. Indeed, it is the common remark of strangers, that they are wont to wear much graver countenances while dancing at a fandango than during their devotional exercises at the foot of the altar. In nothing, however, is their observance of the outward forms of religion more remarkable than in their deportment every day towards the close of twilight, when the large bell of the _Parroquia_ peals for _la oracion_, or vespers.[16] All conversation is instantly suspended--all labor ceases--people of all classes, whether on foot or on horseback, make a sudden halt--even the laden porter, groaning under the weight of an insupportable burden, stops in the midst of his career and stands still. An almost breathless silence reigns throughout the town, disturbed only by the occasional sibilations of the devout multitude: all of which, accompanied by the slow heavy peals of a large sonorous bell, afford a scene truly solemn and appropriate. At the expiration of about two minutes the charm is suddenly broken by the clatter of livelier-toned bells; and a _buenas {258} tardes_ (good evening) to those present closes the ceremony: when _presto_, all is bustle and confusion again--the colloquial chit-chat is resumed--the smith plies upon his anvil with redoubled energy--the clink of the hammer simultaneously resounds in every direction--the wayfarers are again in motion,--both pleasure and business, in short, assume their respective sway.