The figure of the victim was fearfully natural--the pallor of death was on his blood-stained brow, the gash in his side, and his mangled hands and feet were livid. Two priests, mounted on ladders placed against the arms of the cross, were in the act of taking down the writing when I got near enough to see well. At the command of the preacher, who had just finished the meditation, and who directed them from the pulpit, they then proceeded to draw out the nail from the right hand; when loosened from the tree, the arm fell stiffly and as if dead; before the other was freed, long and wide linen bands were passed under both, and around the body, to sustain it and prevent it from falling forward. _Llorad lagrimas de sangre_--"Weep tears of blood," cried the preacher while this was being done amid the breathless silence of the spectators, "he died for you!" So solemnly, so tenderly did the priests perform their office, that it seemed no representation, but dreadful reality, and my cheeks grew cold, and my heart throbbed painfully when the pale, bruised body was gently lowered and borne to the bier waiting to receive it. Yes, this cruel death He died for us; but, O true and loving women! one sweet and proud remembrance will be ours for all eternity--_our_ kiss betrayed him not, nor _our_ tongue denied-- "While even the apostle left him to his doom, _We_ lingered round his cross, and watched his tomb!" The preacher now descended from the pulpit, and quitted the church in company with the other assistant priests; and the direction seemed to be left in the hands of a fraternity called _los Hermanos de la Soledad_--the Brethren of Solitude--a set of tall, fine-looking black men, many with thin lips and _almost_ Roman noses. They were dressed in robes of black glazed calico, with white lace tippets. A quarter of an hour elapsed; the church remained crowded, but there were no signs of preparation for the procession. Presently a handsome, authoritative-mannered personage, evidently a Spaniard, entered hastily, and, pushing his way unceremoniously through the people, sought the members of the brotherhood, to whom he evidently gave some orders, and then went away. A great silence prevailed, and every one seemed to be waiting for something. I at last mustered up courage to ask a brother when the procession would commence. _No hay procesion hasta el año que viene_--"There will be no procession until next year"--he answered in a very loud voice. _Pero, señor, en el diario_--"But, sir, in the newspaper--" I began. "_No hay procesion hasta el año que viene_," he repeated louder still. The women broke forth in murmurs; but not a man spoke, though compressed lips and scowling brows showed sufficiently what was passing within. I must not omit to remark that the congregation consisted almost entirely of colored creoles.