HE morning of Holy Saturday finds her bells silent, and her altars draped in mourning, with the image of the crucified Saviour surrounded by kneeling priests and holy women. In many of the churches the matin services are replete with all that can stir the sympathies of the crowd. This is particularly the case in the "Ara Coeli"-the church of the Capuchins, San Paoli in Vincoli, San Lorenzi, and in others of less note. But in St. John Lateran, that grand old pile that takes precedence even of St. Peter's, as "the mother and mistress of the churches," the services for Holy Saturday are especially devoted to the baptism of heretics, Jews, and Turks, who, renouncing their infidel proclivities, desire to be admitted into the holy Roman Church. This day is also set aside for the consecration of bishops and young priests.

At an early hour, therefore, we were on our way to this ancient basilica; yet early as we were, others were astir before Venerable bishops, prim abbés picking their way over the unclean stones

us.

like genteel black-birds; cowled friars all the varied groups which Rome pours forth to make "a Roman holiday"these, with all sorts of vehicles, from the gay carozze, to the ricketty little one horse "trap," were crowding through the narrow streets which led to the Piazza Laterano. Diverging from these we ascended the beautiful slope of the Esquiline hill, passed that splendid edifice, the basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, and soon entering upon a road closely bordered with stone-pines, came out in front of the old amphitheatre of Castrense, its site partly covered with the basilica founded by Constantine the Great to receive the sacred relic of the Holy Cross brought from Jerusalem by his mother, the Empress Helena, viz., the "Santa Croce in Gerusalemme.”

The glory of the morning crowned with a halo of light the statued apostles upon the summit of St. John Lateran, and at the moment illumined a flight of doves, circling the form of our Saviour, one of which alighted upon the halo which crowns the image. True it was

but a chance act, and yet it was one which thrilled our hearts, for this beautiful symbol, chosen by God himself to declare His will, seemed to bear again those blessed words, "This is my beloved Son."

Ascending the well worn marble steps, we stood beneath the grand old portico, and then entering through the centre bronze door, proceeded up the nave, and finally, like so many "Artful Dodgers," secured a good standing point amid the crowd in one of the transepts behind the high altar. The crowd, as usual, were very belligerent, and we were obliged (for the first time, I am glad to say,) to exert ourselves in self-defence. Two nice-looking peasant women, dressed in picturesque costume, took us under their especial protection, turning up their noses at the pushing crowd, and saying confidentially in a loud whisper, "Ah, signorina, foresteiri," to which I smiled, and nodded knowingly, like a born Roman.

THE BAPTISM,

of course, took place in the baptistery; the other services were to be in the church. After waiting half an hour, a beautiful chant, accompanied by the organ, heralded the procession. We could only catch the twinkling light of the candles above the heads of the multitude as they came in; and then the intoning of the prayers, the Cardinal GrandVicar officiating, was borne to our ears. At a certain part of the ceremony there was for a moment a solemn silence; the organ broke upon this with a mournful prelude, and then the crimson screens upon the Baldechino rolled inward, as if by magic, disclosing the heads of St. Peter and St. Paul, surmounting statues of silver bronze, their actual skulls being encased in the bronze mask! This is what is meant by exposing the heads of these two apostles.

After this, a company of the Swiss guards came in and filed into the transept where we stood, and that was a pretty sure indication that other services would take place within the tribune behind the altar; and in a few moments the whole procession passed close by us,

including the new converts, two Jews, (a man and a woman,) and those who were to receive their ordination as priests. The Cardinal Vicar was a splendid looking old man, apparently seventy-five years of age. The converts bore candles; those who were to be ordained were robed in white linen to their feet, and each one had a garment of white cloth thrown over the left arm, neatly folded. The altar cloth, of white satin and gold, was superb. I could catch the lustre of jewels also in the richly embroidered flowers. The chair, too, was covered with white and gold. The Cardinal took off his vestments of yellow satin, and received a robe of white and gold, which he put on; then his embroidered gloves, with the splendid ring over his little finger, and next his glittering mitre was placed on his head.

Mass then commenced, and at the very first words the young priests arose from their seats and threw themselves prostrate upon the pavement in ranks of five and six, side by side, the whole length of the tribune. I do not mean simply on their knees, but flat down upon their faces. In this attitude of the most penitent and humble devotion, they remained while the Litany and other prayers were chanted. It was a singular sight. The newly baptized converts were now led in turn up to the Cardinal Vicar, seated in the big chair before the altar, who, taking a pair of scissors, clipped a little lock of hair from the crown of their heads, put over their shoulders a little gown of white, falling just to the hips over their black skirts, then blessed them, and they passed on. As this rite closed, sweet music was heard, and a curtain was suddenly withdrawn from a niche behind the altar, disclosing a large painting of "Christ risen from the dead," and at the same moment all the bells in Rome, which are never rung in Holy Week, from the noon of Maundy-Thursday, until 12 o'clock of Holy Saturday,-sent forth a joyous peal, "Hallelujah, Christ has risen!" The effect was certainly very beautiful. How much there is in the Roman Catholic religion which appeals to the senses! Fine music, splendid

This done, and after a long prelude of ceremonies, which kept the old Cardinal passing to and from the chair to the altar, et cetera, the reverend prelate again sat down, and then the young priests advanced, two and two, and knelt before him, kissing the toe of his slipper. He blessed them, made over them the sign of the cross, and administered the sacred wafer to each one; and then, as they knelt, threw over them the garments which each brought folded; they were pluviums of white cloth, lined with yellow silk, and trimmed around with gold braid an inch wide. Kissing his hand, each priest now passed on. I asked an old French bishop who stood by my side, if the services were nearly over. He smiled derisively, I thought, and assured me it would yet be two hours ere all was done! Two hours! I could not stand that, beginning already to have a cold, faintish sensation from having stood so long inhaling the sickly incense, and the garlic breath of many standing near. So we elbowed our way out from the transept. The fresher air in the body of the church revived us, and we drove to the

CHURCH OF ST. IGNATIUS.

Here, too, was a great crowd. The church was beautifully illuminated. The High Altar especially looked lovely; the candles behind rising in a graceful sweep, circling the entire breadth of the nave, up to the very top. The music, too, was very fine. We arrived at the church just in time to see the procession carrying the Host around, borne by a priest under a canopy of white satin.

The Litany of the Saints was then sung by the clergy, and the choir and congregation responded. This closed the services, of which, however, we had seen but a small part. We thought of driving over to St. Peter's to see what was going on there, but remembering that we had two engagements for the evening, viz., for the washing of the feet of the Pilgrims at the Hospital Trinita de Pel

WASHING THE FEET OF THE PILGRIMS

is a great institution in Rome. These pilgrims, men and women, young and old, travel a long distance to be in Rome during the Holy Week. I believe they are required to come at least sixty miles, and must bring certificates from their parish priest attesting their good character, or they cannot be admitted to the privileges they claim. Tired and footsore, they come from their long journey, but as soon as they behold the dome of St. Peter's, all bodily ills seem to vanish. For several days before Palm Sunday, they come flocking into the city. We meet them on the Campagna, with staff and scrip, steadily pursuing their way; or we find them at the gates, or clustered about the steps of the churches the old, perhaps, sleeping upon the hard stones, their little bundles under their headsthe young, bright, laughing, and helping to relieve those more faint and weary than themselves.

These pilgrims are well cared for as soon as they present themselves. Every night during the week, they are waited upon in turn-washed, fed, and housed by the confraternity of Trinita de Pellegrini, consisting entirely of the nobility of Rome. On the evenings of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, visitors are allowed to witness the proceedings, provided they have a ticket from some responsible person.

We left the house at seven o'clock, and after a long drive reached the hospital, which is close by the Ponte Quattro Cafi. As we drove around this large building to the entrance at the rear, our way was thronged, and the steps, even to the doors, were crowded with the pilgrims, waiting for admittance. Some of them looked very sick and weary; some very dirty; others had evidently "smartened" themselves up, and looked very nice in their short blue petticoats and red jackets. We were admitted by another door, and fortunately met a very pleasant lady, one of the noble sisterhood, just going in, who was disposed to be