the names of those who had during the month offered wax-candles at the shrine. Four-fifths of those who offered these candles and paid the price, had tortillas plain, or an ear of boiled corn for their dinner, dirty rags for clothing, and the earth for a bed. God be thanked, the last great temple of any faith has been built on earth from the sweaty and blood of the toiling millions, and these things shall not be for all time.
From San Juan de los Lagos we proceeded, on the 30th of October, to Lagos, thirty-six miles eastward toward Guanajuato, arriving at 5 p. m. Here we had intended to remain all night and go on at sunrise; but of the three carts conveying our bedding and extra luggage, only one got through before morning, the others being out all night in a driving rain, and stuck fast, in the mud and darkness. This delayed us so that we were compelled to pass the day in the handsome house which the citizens, who met us in carriages outside the city, had placed at the disposal of the party.
The city of Lagos has a population of all hues and ages, estimated at eighteen thousand, and of course supports half a dozen churches, whose bells keep up an incessant ding-donging from morning to night. The finest of these is the Parochial Church, an immense structure, larger even than the cathedral at San Juan de los Lagos, built on the same plan, and only second to it in costliness and elegance. It was founded in 1784, and the spires of cut stone, like those at San Juan, are as yet only two-thirds finished; they are still at work upon them. The interior is exquisitely beautiful, with pale blue and gold ceilings, carvings and statuary, tiled floor, and vaulted fretwork roof. The congregation, assembled at the early morning mass, are even more