DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0019
A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION.
3
often, converted into shrines with burning tapers, golden
crucifixes, pictures, and flowers. The air was filled with
the sound of hymns and the pealing of bells ; altars were
erected at the corners of the streets, at the fountains,
and before the churches. Through the gay street wound
the long train; priests in their gorgeous robes, scarlet,
white, and gold, under gorgeous canopies ; Franciscan
monks in their grave-coloured garbs; Sisters of Mercy;
various brotherhoods in quaint picturesque attire, all with
gay floating baimers and silver crucifixes. Then came
young girls with wreaths of myrtle on their heads, with
lilies and palm-branches in their hands, or bearing books,
tapers, or rosaries; then troops and troops of little chil-
dren, all in white, and their heads crowned with flowers,
and all raising their pure youthful voices in hymns of
praise ! It was very beautiful. My soul seemed calmed and
exalted. And, at a window opposite to where I was, sate
an old, old woman, watching all with the deepest devotion.
I shall not soon forget her face.
Wednesday.—We are at length settled as to domestic
matters. We live not far from the Palace, at a sort of old
curiosity shop, which Dickens would love to describe.
You go up a dark winding staircase, and ring at a little
dark door; the door opens, and you see a large room
full of gilt crucifixes, picture-frames, and huge painted
saints larger than life, and glittering with gold. Beyond
this, at the end of a long, desolate, white-washed passage,
he our rooms, spacious and cheerful, with many windows
looking out into the public street, and giving a distant view
of the Palace.
JuneYZth.—Pmjoice with us: on Monday we become
pupils of-! I es ! next Monday we are to begin our
studies in that identical little atelier where, seven years
ago, when almost a child, I saw that group of young
artists resting themselves at noon, and playing on the
3
often, converted into shrines with burning tapers, golden
crucifixes, pictures, and flowers. The air was filled with
the sound of hymns and the pealing of bells ; altars were
erected at the corners of the streets, at the fountains,
and before the churches. Through the gay street wound
the long train; priests in their gorgeous robes, scarlet,
white, and gold, under gorgeous canopies ; Franciscan
monks in their grave-coloured garbs; Sisters of Mercy;
various brotherhoods in quaint picturesque attire, all with
gay floating baimers and silver crucifixes. Then came
young girls with wreaths of myrtle on their heads, with
lilies and palm-branches in their hands, or bearing books,
tapers, or rosaries; then troops and troops of little chil-
dren, all in white, and their heads crowned with flowers,
and all raising their pure youthful voices in hymns of
praise ! It was very beautiful. My soul seemed calmed and
exalted. And, at a window opposite to where I was, sate
an old, old woman, watching all with the deepest devotion.
I shall not soon forget her face.
Wednesday.—We are at length settled as to domestic
matters. We live not far from the Palace, at a sort of old
curiosity shop, which Dickens would love to describe.
You go up a dark winding staircase, and ring at a little
dark door; the door opens, and you see a large room
full of gilt crucifixes, picture-frames, and huge painted
saints larger than life, and glittering with gold. Beyond
this, at the end of a long, desolate, white-washed passage,
he our rooms, spacious and cheerful, with many windows
looking out into the public street, and giving a distant view
of the Palace.
JuneYZth.—Pmjoice with us: on Monday we become
pupils of-! I es ! next Monday we are to begin our
studies in that identical little atelier where, seven years
ago, when almost a child, I saw that group of young
artists resting themselves at noon, and playing on the