The archbishop--who is a young man, devout, fervent and sincere, a very anchorite in his habits and mode of life, thin, spare of frame, and with features eloquent with the fire of intellect, morally and physically the splendid ideal of what a true priest ought to be--wandered among his flock, exhorting, comforting, admonishing and cheering them; while the _Hermandades_, a religious brotherhood, headed by their color-bearer, upon whose banner the effigy of the Virgin, their patron saint, was emblazoned, walking two by two in procession in the long gowns of their order--some red, some black, some white--and each carrying a lighted taper, traversed the plazas and paraded the streets the whole night. The glimmering light of the tapers falling upon these dusky shrouded forms in the gloom of this awful night, the melancholy refrain of the prayers which they chanted as they passed through the awestruck city, the lessening glimpses of the flickering tapers as the train passed solemnly by into some distant street,--all served rather to intensify than to tranquillize the alarm.
The excitement and agitation of the people were so great that no one thought of going to bed: those who, like ourselves, went neither to the country nor to the open squares, sat in their windows and compared their experiences or gathered news from every passer-by; for they feared to separate from their families, lest a worse shock might overtake some one of them apart from the rest. Besides this, the danger in the streets was greater than at home, because of their narrowness and the likelihood of the walls on either side toppling over upon pedestrians.
The night had been beautifully clear, and the moon brilliant as it is only in the tropics, but toward midnight the weather became cloudy and a drizzling rain fell at intervals, driving us within doors between one and two o'clock, but only to lie down fully dressed upon our beds, with lights burning and doors left open, so as the more readily to facilitate our escape if necessary. One or two slight shocks recurred during the night, but morning dawned at last, finding us unhurt; and with returning day our courage too returned, so _darkness_ "doth make cowards of us all." It was then ascertained that the cathedral had sustained some slight damage; the image of the Virgin in the church of the Candelaria had been thrown to the ground and broken to pieces; and the National Pantheon, the observatory of the new university and other public buildings, with many houses, had been injured, but none thrown down and no lives lost.