The city of Quito was brilliantly illuminated; it was the anniversary of its patron saint, and, in honour of their holy founder, the convent and church of the Ursulines presented a spectacle of dazzling splendour. The latter was lighted with a thousand tapers, and the great altar was ornamented with all the monastic treasures which a devotee delights to view. Crucifixes and sacred vessels, in gold and silver, and of surpassing beauty, were liberally exhibited; while relics, in jewelled cabinets, were on this, the high festival of Saint Ursula, brought from their hallowed shrines, to delight the eyes and gladden the hearts of the faithful. A long array of dignified ecclesiastics, in gorgeous robes, filed in procession through the lofty aisles, while censors blazed, and the pealing organ thundered forth its “jubilate.’” Within a large extent round the city, all that was noble, wealthy, or religious, on this her glorious anniversary, were assembled to do honour to their fwourite saint,--while salvos of artillery from the ramparts, and the rolling fire of _feu de joie_, rose at times above the choral swell, adding to a religious pageant, the anomalous associations which a battle-field and “heady fight” would give. To complete the effect of this splendid spectacle, the proud, the brwe, the beautiful, followed humbly in procession after monk and nun--the men bearing perfumed tapers of coloured wax--while the women strewed flowers as they moved along before the blessed relics of their sainted patroness. Leaning against a pillar of the two, two personages of very different appearance, viewed the procession with that interest it was so well calculated to excite. One, from his quiet air and sober dress, seemed a man engaged in some peaceful avocation; he might have been a notary, a doctor, or a trader. The other, a young, tall, and handsome cavalier, was richly attired in a fanciful costume; rapier and poignard were in an embroidered belt; rings of costly workmanship glittered on his fingers, and a jewel of exquisite brilliancy sparkled from the looping of his richly-plumed hat. As the procession moved slowly on, the gay stranger might hwe been overheard addressing his more sober companion, to inquire who the actors in the passing scene might be; and while he bent his head in differently as every succeeding relic passed, and bishop and mitred abbot, one after another, defiled before him, the irreligious stranger never asked their names. “Yon stately man in the rich cope and alb is the holy prior of San Augustin;--he exorcises devils----” The gay foreigner impatiently interrupted his soberer companion. “Hang the fat prior!--we have no devils to be exorcised.” “And see, yonder thin black priest--he is the canon of San Roque,--the best preacher that ever mounted pulpit.” “There leave him, my good friend,--I hate the drowsy race. Ha!--Who is that noble-looking person in the green uniform faced with gold?”