The large hall, occupying the centre of the building, was sufficiently ample to accommodate them, and some fifty gentlemen and ladies as spectators. They brought their own orchestral accompaniment, which consisted entirely of violins and guitars. Their prelude had so many sweet harmonies that the listener determined to listen on. The dialogue and chant of the shepherds would have awakened their appropriate associations, but for the obtrusions of the hermit, hunter, and devil, who now gave much freer scope to their characteristic peculiarities than they did in church. The hermit forgot that his lash was intended for himself, and began to use it on others. The hunter left off snaring birds, and commenced setting springes to catch Satan; but his intended victim not only managed to escape, but to decoy the hunter himself into his own net. The hermit tried to disenchant him through the power of his missal, but this having no effect, he threatened to chastise the subtle author of the mischief, but wanted some one to seize and hold him, for fear his horn, hoof, or tail might come in conflict with the life-glass. During this side-acting, the dialogue and chant of the shepherds went on, though it would be difficult to conceive of any two things more wide asunder in their spirit and effect. The whole was concluded with the riata dance, by the shepherds, who executed its airy movements with a lightness and precision of step that would have thrown enchantment on any occasion less sacred in its associations than the present. CHAPTER IX. DAY OF THE SANTOS INNOCENTES.—LETTING OFF A LAKE.—ARRIVAL OF THE DALE WITH HOME LETTERS.—THE DEAD YEAR.—NEWLY-ARRIVED EMIGRANTS.—EGG-BREAKING FESTIVITIES.—CONCEALMENT OF CHAVES.—PLOT TO CAPTURE THE ALCALDE. SUNDAY, DEC. 27. The dramatic shepherds have just passed my door on their way to the mansion of Gen. Castro, where they are to perform their pastorals. Their drama is ill suited to the sacredness of the Sabbath: its grotesque appendages, in the person of the wild hunter and apocalyptic dragon, are but little short of a burlesque on the devotional chant of the shepherds. Indeed, there is not a truth connected with man’s redemption which can derive any force from scenic representation. Every passage in the life of the Redeemer, every act that he performed, and every precept that he inculcated, are invested with a solemnity which should exempt them from the attempts of dramatic art. They have a significancy and force which transcend the evanescent triumphs of the stage. The tragedy of the Cross stands alone; no human passion can approach it; it is shielded in its sorrows by the divinity of the sufferer; its love overwhelmed angels; its agony awoke the dead.