The season of Carnival now approached. It lasts twelve days, and
is as all know who are conversant with Roman Catholic Holidays, a
period of merry making where every extravagance is indulged and
Comus reigns in joyous misrule. I should fill chapters to attempt a
description of the scenes which were enacted in Montevideo during
this season of folly and festivity. The presence of an army without the
walls each day becoming more formidable from the increase of numbers
and the accession of artillery, by no means put a bar upon the
mirth peculiar to the time. For some days prior the greatest preparations
were going on to celebrate the occasion. The churches were
trimmed with garlands of flowers, and every house was decorated with
wreaths and bouquests. Smiles were upon every face, and the greatest
good humor prevailed among all classes. Even the African slaves
seemed to enter with spirit into the scenes, although the majority of

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them being heathens had little knowledge of Christian festivals; but
as they had full license to enjoy the days in their own way, this religious
merry-making was quite as acceptable to them as to the most
devout Catholics.

The morning of the first day was ushered in by the firing of cannon
and the clang of bands of music. The whole garrison paraded during
the day in the public squares, and at night the palace was thrown
open for a grand masked ball, to which all foreigners of any consideration
were invited. We had not the honor of an invitation, as we were
soda shop boys. Sunday was the gayest day of the first three. As we
refused to keep the shop open on that day, notwithstanding the urgent
desire of our employer, we made it a holiday, and, dressed in our best,
went into the streets. The scenes that everywhere met our eyes were
novel and full of life and interest. The thoroughfares were crowded
with persons of both sexes and all hues and costumes. At the head of
the street we met a procession which, in the United States, would be
termed a Callithumpian one. The leader was a motley-dressed fellow
wearing a hideous mask, with a nose a yard long, across which was a
pair of spectacles a foot in diameter. He wore a cap and bells, and
his dress was painted all over with red and blue devils, with forked
tails and pitchforks. He was mounted on a donkey fantastically accoutred
and having at the end of his nose an elephant's trunk. Ever
and anon the fellow astride upon him would sound a ram's horn with
the most dissinant twang. He was followed closely by a group, two
and two, as extravagantly accoutered as himself, each masked most
furiously, and every one striving to make himself, as ludicrous as his
mother wits would let him. There must have been full three hundred
individuals, satyrs, devils, hobgoblins, angels, wizards, necromancers,
saints and sinners in all; and as they went along the streets they
would crack jokes upon the spectators, and were in return pelted with
harmless missiles.

The balconies were lined with females, some of them old and ugly,
but many of them extremely beautiful. The Montevidean ladies under
twenty are, indeed, lovely. Their large black eyes, full of passion
and love, their rich brunette complexions, their raven hair tastefully
dressed with jewels and flowers, and set off by the folds of black lace
veils worn with coquettish grace; their rich scarlet lips and beautiful
voluptuous figures, comprise points of feminine beauty in which they
excel almost all females of other lands. Their voices, too, are so melodious
and flute-like, that one is thrilled whenever they speak. They
smile, too, so beautifully, and with such `naivete,' that the heart is
taken by storm and surrenders at discretion.

Such, at least, were the impressions then of Paul Perril, eighteen
years old and a devout worshipper at the shrine of beauty. Enthusiastic
as I was, my situation as shop-boy had withheld me hitherto from seeking
the acquaintance of any of them, though there were two or three
little black beauties I had seen who lived in the neighborhood,
whom I resolved, when I should get quit of the shop, to endeavor to
form a nearer acquaintance with than distant arrow glances could
give!

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As we entered the square we beheld a martial spectacle that fixed
our attention. Eight thousand of the Imperial troops, cavalry and infantry,
were passing in review before the Governor General and his
staff, which were posted in a group in front of the palace. The splendor
of the cavalry uniforms and that of a great portion of the foot soldiers,
gave a gorgeous aspect to the whole I had never witnessed before.
They were all in motion at once, while at least five hundred
instruments of music were filling the sky.

Near us drew up a mounted general and several officers, who stood
awhile looking on as the battallions passed them. The uniform of this
body of officers literally blazed with gold. Of all magnificent military
dresses I have since beheld, I have seen none to equal those of the
Brazilian officers. Most of the wearers of them, however, were small,
under-sized men, and some of them beardless boys.

On horseback the Brazilian officer looks well, for his low stature
does not contrast with the splendor of his apparel; but on foot they
look diminutive and often insignificant. They want, too, manly
strength of profile, and are far from possessing the martial countenances
that characterizes military men of other countries. It is true,
there were among them some fine-looking, soldierly officers; but these
were their exceptions. Their courage is, also, questionable, or rather,
their pusillanimity unquestionable.

The best officers in the Brazilian army were Frenchmen, who had
been schooled in the battle-fields of Napoleon, and who now sought
fame and occupation in the service of Don Pedro. There were also
in the army some Austrian officers, who had followed the fortunes of
the Brazilian Empress, who was an Austian by birth; and who sometimes
led her own armies to battle, herself mounted astride and habited
like an Amazon.

Not long previous to our arrival at Montevideo, she had sallied from
Rio Janeiro, the capitol, leaving Don Pedro at home in his palace,
and marched to the interior, at the head of an army, to quell an insurrection,
which she successfully put down. This does not say much
for the warlike qualities of the Emperor, who, I believe is no Napoleon,
though he chose an Empress of that heroic blood.

After we left the square we turned to the right and suddenly encountered
the `Host,' borne by a priest who tramped on at a rapid
pace beneath a crimson canopy supported by four boys in white surplices.
The consecrated wafer was contained in a small chased silver
vase or box, held upon a velvet cushion fringed with gold and decorated
with flowers.

It was preceded by a little boy ringing a bell and by four soldiers
with muskets, and followed by several priests and boys in surplices
bearing colored candles. As the procession advanced, every man,
woman and child dropped upon their knees and crossed themselves.—
Some went down in the mud, some upon the pavement, others upon
the balconies, or roofs, or the doors, just where they happened to be.
Every good Catholic in sight was bound to drop upon his knees.—
Some of the cavaliers, in white trowsers, I saw, took the precaution
o spread a handkerchief upon the ground to protect them. As we

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came near we found ourselves standing alone surrounded by a kneeling,
crossing multitude. We stood still and stiff. The little bell
tinkled louder and sharper, and the soldiers eyeing us, one of them
cried out sternly in Portuguese, `kneel heretics!'

I slightly raised my hat over my head, but inwardly resolved I would
not bend knee to a piece of bread deified by idolatry. My two companions
stood also firm until a soldier's bayonet was advanced horizontally
in the direction of their abdominal region, when they retreated
into a fruit shop, the door of which stood, fortunately, open. I was
about to follow when a soldier took me by the shoulder and pressed
me down, as if he would make me kneel whether I would or no. This
proceeding roused my indignation, and, hitting the fellow a blow between
the eyes, I caused him to release his hold, when I turned to escape.
The kneelers so crowded the way that I could not advance.—
Above me was a verandah, upon which stood several ladies. Impulsively
I seized one of the branching irons that supported it, drew myself
lightly up and bounded upon the balcony among them, leaving
my discomfited soldiers gazing up from the street and cursing me with
oaths which I did neither understand nor care to.

The fellows finding they were interrupting the progress of the procession,
fell in again in the front, the little bell tinkled with an expression
of angry vehemence, and canopy, hosts, priests and little
boys in white shirts moved on again. The people rose by the dozens
as it went past them, and in a few moments all was noise and talking
and mad gaiety. Maskers once more paraded the streets and music
resounded on all sides, mingled with peals of laughter.

I looked about me. The house which I had scaled so unceremoniously
was of large size and had an imposing air of aristocracy. The
balcony was elaborately ornamented with grotesque figures cut into
the iron balustrade, and vases of plants both shaded it and shed
around a sweet fragrance. There were four tall windows, curtained
with crimson and orange drapery that led from it into sumptuously
furnished drawing rooms. Open windows on the other side of them
showed me another verandah overlooking a court-yard in which played
a fountain.

These points were observed at a glance. I next observed the occupants
of the balcony. There were five persons, one of them a stern-looking
priest: the others females. Three of them possessed nothing
very striking in their appearance, one being old, the others plain, and
full thirty, save the elegance of their dress. But the fourth instantly
enchained my eyes, and made my heart bound as if it would break its
imprisonment.

She was about sixteen, two years younger than I, that bewitching
age of freshness of beauty and love. She was a brunette, with the
most brilliant sloe-black eyes, that pierced like diamond-tipped arrows.
She was as graceful as a fawn, with a figure superb, like those of all
Spanish girls. Her hand was so small, that seen through the fold of
a curtain, it would have been taken for a child's of eight years. Her
hair was dark as night and freely waving in glittering tresses about her

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shoulders. Her lips were like `a crushed rose leaf,' and around them
played a smile, full of the most captivating snares.

I stood bewildered. I feel that I must have looked supremely silly;
or I stared without other consciousness than her presence. She
smiled, and I became conscious of my rudeness. I remembered where
I was and how I happened there.

I was about to make an apology for my rudeness in my best book-Spanish,
when the priest laid his hand firmly upon my arm, and looking
as if he would annihilate me, cried in Portuguese,—

`Are you a heretic?'

`I am an American!' I answered in Spanish.

`An Americano!' repeated the young Spanish girl who had set my
heart playing cupid's tatoo; and her beautiful eyes beamed, and an
expression of curiosity and pleasure animated her fine oriental face.

`You have deserved to be imprisoned,' said the priest, in Spanish.
`I shall send for a guard and have you sent to prison, for disturbing
the peace!'

`It was the soldiers, not I,' I answered. `I stood quiet and raised
my hat!'

`Why did you not kneel?' he demanded sternly.

`I was taught by my father and mother to kneel only to God!' I
answered.

`That was your God! It was Christ in the Host, and is not
Christ God!'

I was not then much skilled in controversial theology, and scarcely
knew the difference between consubstantiation and transubstantiation;
nevertheless I answered him that I could never believe that God ever
dwelt in a wafer to be eaten.

This reply caused the fierce priest to look still more terrible, and
he was about to call for some one to go for the guard, when the
young Spanish girl stepped forward and laid her little white hand on
his arm.

`Padre mio,' she said in Castilian, and in the most musical voice
imaginable, which made one think of nightingales and bulbuls, `the
young gentleman is to be pitied, not harshly condemned. Let him depart
in peace, and perhaps your leniency will convert him. Severity
will not do it, be assured!'

`Then be it as you say, Senorita Isabel!' answered the priest, steping
back. `The obstinacy of these heretics is amazing, especially los
Americanos!'

I thanked my beautiful intercessor as well as I could for the embarrassment
her eyes gave me, which I feared to look into, and then was
looking about to see how I should reach the street, when she said,
with a smile, that I had best wait a few minutes until those people who
had witnessed the late scene should have passed on; when she graciously
conducted me through the drawing room to a flight of spacious
stone stairs leading down to the court-yard.

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