It was now dark; but I walked around the cathedral. All the streets leading to it were thronged with people, and through the crowds it was hard to thread one’s way. At the door, which I finally reached, the people were coming out, and the guards informed me that the only entrance was on the other side. It was a long way, and not very pleasant; but at last I gained the court, where the blessed pilgrims were permitted to enter. Two lines of men, women, and children, in single file, stretching far away into the darkness and into some remote part of the city, were marching steadily into the cathedral, saying their prayers aloud as they walked slowly, devout in their appearance, and full of anxiety to get a sight of the precious treasures within. The prayers they were repeating are prepared for this service, and have reference to the sacred relics whose sovereign virtues they are now hoping to enjoy. When the remains of President Lincoln were for one day and night exposed in the City Hall of New York, the public were admitted to view them, and the line extended some miles up town, and marched steadily into the park all night long. Except that procession of gazers, I never saw a crowd intent on such a sight to equal the number of these pilgrims. It was impossible to enter the cathedral under these circumstances, and I was told that by coming early the next morning I could be admitted alone. But the next morning the gates were closed against all comers, and preparations were on foot for the grand septennial procession of the relics. The court and the streets leading to it were filled with rude benches, and thousands were seated where they could look with reverential awe on the cathedral in which these holy things were preserved. From the multitude there was rising on the air, like the sound of many waters, the voice of prayer. Away up one of the towers was a gallery passing around it, and on that gallery a procession of priests was making a frequent circuit, while the crowd gazed upwards with evident edification, as the holy utensils and the cross were borne aloft between them and heaven. There in the sun they sat, and thousands stood gazing and praying, the perfect embodiment of superstition, and the easy dupes of a cunning priesthood. They were of the lowest class of the population, if we could judge correctly by their dress and appearance. Yet were they orderly and devout, and only when some special spectacle led them all to rush to get the best place was there any need of the many guards who were on hand at all times to prevent disorder.