{115} The Virgin of Atocha is the patron of the sovereigns of Spain. Her image, which is small and of a colour as dark as a mulatto, appeared, as tradition asserts, at the spot on which the chapel was afterwards erected, and in which, in the present day, it is deposited. This chapel is situated near the magnificent promenade called the Prado, in Madrid, and was formerly part of a convent of Dominican Friars, converted, after the suppression of the religious orders, into barracks for sick soldiers. When the court is in Madrid, the sovereign goes every Saturday evening to this sanctuary with a great procession of grandees and guards. The Virgin of Atocha has an immense fortune, consisting of jewels and trinkets which have been presented to her by the monarchs. Among these presents, one is the distinguished velvet dress, embroidered with gold, worn by Isabella II. at the time she was wounded by the Priest Merino. When her Majesty felt she was wounded by the poniard of this assassin, and saw him seized by her guards, her first words were, “Pray, spare the life of that man!” This is another proof of Isabella’s kind and forgiving disposition, especially when it is considered that she uttered the words spontaneously, without prompting or premeditation, but on the spur of the moment. {116} Spaniards have greatly excelled in the sculpture of wood,—a branch of the fine arts which does not deserve the disdain with which modern writers have treated it. In many churches in Spain there are admirable productions of this kind, of a perfect execution, expression, and design. The statue of the Virgin of the Conception, placed in the choir of the cathedral of Seville, a work of the celebrated Montañes, will rival the most celebrated masterpieces of modern sculpture. {125} The Roman Catholic Church has adopted, for its hymns, the poetry of the low Latinity of the middle ages. Among these is distinguished for its originality that which is generally sung in the office for the dead. The two principal verses are these:— “Dies iræ, dies ilia, Solvens sec’lum in favilla, Teste David, cum Sybilla. . . . . . Tuba mirum spargens sonum, Per sepulchra regionum, Venient omnes ante thronum.” We cannot resist the opportunity of giving the late Sir Walter Scott’s metrical translation of this sublime ode, a translation which, as a hymn, is generally sung in Protestant churches:— I. “The day of wrath: that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away! What power shall be the sinner’s stay? Whom shall he trust that dreadful day? II. “When, shriv’lling, like a parchëd scroll, The flaming heavens together roll, When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead,— III.