churches, which is previously filled to excess with the
multitudes anxious to witness the affecting meeting of mother and
son a few days before the crucifixion. The images are brought
face to face in the middle of the church, the crowd falls
prostrate, and a lachrymose sermon is delivered from the pulpit.

The whole thing, as well as many other spectacles arranged during
the few succeeding days, is highly theatrical and well calculated
to excite the religious emotions of the people-- although,
perhaps, only temporarily. On Good Friday the bells do not ring,
all musical sounds are interdicted, and the hours, night and day,
are announced by the dismal noise of wooden clappers, wielded by
negroes stationed near the different churches. A sermon is
delivered in each church. In the middle of it, a scroll is
suddenly unfolded from the pulpit, upon which is an exaggerated
picture of the bleeding Christ. This act is accompanied by loud
groans, which come from stout-lunged individuals concealed in the
vestry and engaged for the purpose. The priest becomes greatly
excited, and actually sheds tears. On one of these occasions I
squeezed myself into the crowd, and watched the effect of the
spectacle on the audience. Old Portuguese men and Brazilian women
seemed very much affected-- sobbing, beating their breasts, and
telling their beads. The negroes themselves behaved with great
propriety, but seemed moved more particularly by the pomp, the
gilding, the dresses, and the general display. Young Brazilians
laughed. Several aborigines were there, coolly looking on. One
old Indian, who was standing near me, said, in a derisive manner,
when the sermon was over: "It's all very good; better it could
not be" (Esta todo bom; melhor nao pude ser).