Carriages, open, splendid barouches, and some with seated platforms prepared for the purpose, drawn by four or six horses, passed by, with six, eight, and even twelve maskers, all clad in the most inconceivably ludicrous robes, with queer hats and trimmings; and some of them with musical instruments, singing, gesticulating, bowing to the ladies in the windows, and exchanging salutations with the people in the way. The drivers and postilions and footmen were all rigged in livery to match the costumes of the company in the carriage, who thus aped the nobility and even royalty itself in its mockery of stately grandeur. And in the midst of these maskers, carriages with elegant ladies, in full dress for riding, go by, and among them, with his legs hanging over the side of the carriage, is one of the most fantastically got-up maskers, whose outlandish costume and ridiculous situation call out tremendous applause. On the Prado, the great park of the city, thousands of elegant equipages are out in the afternoon, and the most fashionable people of Madrid are in the frolic. The ladies are loaded with sugar-plums to throw among the maskers, and these gay fellows will rush up to any carriage, leap on the steps, and demand a supply. On the walks, an old dowager in a splendid velvet cloak and dress, masked and representing an ancient belle, got up regardless of expense, attracts marked attention as she displays her fan and feathers, and struts as if in a drawing-room where she imagines herself admired. An old monk hobbles along, as if broken down with age and poverty. A procession of priests mocks at religion itself, in a country where we had thought it a capital crime to make fun of the priesthood.