Señor de los Temblores, or Festival of the Lord of Earthquakes. On this day the public plaza in front of the cathedral is hung with garlands and festoons, and the belfry utters its loudest notes. The images of the saints are borne out from their shrines, covered with fresh and gaudy decorations. The Madonna of Bethlehem, San Cristoval, San Blas, and San José, are borne on in elevated state, receiving as they go the prayers of all the Maries, and Christophers, and Josephs, who respectively regard them as patrons. But the crowning honors are reserved for the miraculous Crucifix, called the Lord of Earthquakes, which is supposed to protect the city from the dreaded terrestrial shocks, the Temblores.
The procession winds around a prescribed route, giving opportunity for public prayers and the devotions of the multitude; the miraculous image, in a new spangled skirt, that gives it the most incongruous resemblance to an opera-dancer, is finally shut up in the church; and then the glad throng, feeling secure from earthquakes another year, dance and sing in the plaza all night long.
The Borers, a hardy, fighting, and superstitious race, have a showy time at weddings and funerals. When the appointed day for marriage has arrived, the friends of the contracting parties assemble and form a circle; into this ring the bridegroom leads his lady-love.
The woman is divested of her clothing, and stands somewhat as mother Eve did in the garden before she thought of the fig-leaf. The man then takes oil from a shell, and anoints the bride from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet; at the close of this ceremony, the bridegroom breaks forth into joyful peals of
