First in the procession are those who carry the crosses, banners, and candelabra, all the portable belongings of the Church, made as fresh as possible for the _sagra_, and a Madonna, usually seated in a somewhat shaky chair. These bearers wear a sort of priestly vestment over their work-day clothes; and these are carefully arranged in groups of different colors,--first blue, then red, and lastly white. It is most interesting to see the faces of these bronzed, weather-beaten men, more accustomed to rowing than to walking. They stagger beneath their burdens {86} from side to side of the narrow calle; but they smile as they meet the gaze of neighbors and friends, who watch from the windows and doorways the progress of their carissima Madonna. Behind the bearers comes the sacristan,--a person of importance, clothed in scarlet, walking backward, and ringing a bell. He is the marshal of the procession; and every boy is sober and properly behaved when within sight of this important official. Following him the music comes,--usually a clarinet, fife, trombone, and drum,--playing the most cheerful themes, and followed by three little acolytes, who swing their censers with such a will as to send up perfect clouds of incense. The parish priest comes next, and is usually an old and venerable man. He is dressed in rich robes and laces, and attended by men bearing a canopy over his head. He carries the Host reverently in his hands, and is followed by all the lesser clergy and officials of the parish. Then the pious men and women, the first in black clothes and bareheaded, and the last in long black veils, make a large part of the procession; and here a most curious economical custom is observed. Each of these parishioners carries a lighted taper, and to avoid its dripping, holds it sideways across the breast; and beside each one of these walks some one with a paper bag in which to catch the drippings of the wax. And so the procession winds in and out of every possible place in all the parish. It is often forced to halt by some obstacle in the narrow way; and those below are nodding and smiling to those above, for every window and balcony is filled. The procession stops at the last bridge in the parish, which has been covered with gayly colored mats. The music ceases; the priest alone, under his canopy, climbs to the highest point on the arch of the bridge, and raises the Host in air. Every voice is hushed, every head uncovered, and every knee bent. The only {87} sound is of the water gliding on and on to the sea. All is enclosed by high walls; but if one throws the head quite back, a strip of lovely placid blue symbolizes the peace which these humble worshippers are hoping to gain at last.