The grand object of the Roman Catholic Church in its observance of the Easter festival, as stated by Bishop England, is “to use the most natural and efficacious mode of so exhibiting to a redeemed race the tragic occurrences of the very catastrophe by which that redemption was effectuated, as to produce deep impressions for their religious improvement,” and he hazards the following observation, that “if the multiplication of religious rites be superstition, then is the God of Sinai its most powerful abettor.” Acting upon this view of the inspired Word, the Church of Rome combines “music, scenery, action and poetry,” with a grand melodrama to excite those emotions in the minds of its disciples which it substitutes for religion, or to use the words of its expounder, “to bring the mind to any particular frame,” so that “the effect is almost irresistible.”

There was a period doubtless in the history of Christianity when certain religious transactions, simply given in a pictorial manner, were not without efficacy in arousing heathen minds to inquiry and interest; but multiplied and diverted as they since have been from their original purposes, they are now presented to us more as a theatrical resource to sustain and show off priestcraft than as illustrating the truths of the Bible. Yet I would not be understood as asserting that there arc no hearts moved even in this age to a clearer appreciation of the sublime doctrines which they are intended to illustrate, by these subtle appeals to the senses and imagination. Many a simple Romanist bows in adoring faith before image or relic, and arises from his devotion justified before God, as was the poor publican in the Temple who beat his breast and cried, “Have mercy upon me a miserable sinner,” while the skeptical Pharisee, who thanked heaven that he was not as other men, left with additional sin upon his heart. The sin lies not with those who believe, but upon them who deceive those that “hunger and thirst after righteousness.” If the ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church, to which I shall allude, are the “bread of life,” then is her skirt free from this great wickedness. But if, on the contrary, they confirm mankind in superstition, substituting evanescent emotion for practical piety, and shut the gates of heaven to all except those who bow before their idols and leave their gifts at her shrine, then indeed have the enlightened men, who have upheld and sanctioned a system so much at variance with the simple precepts of the gospel and the example of its author, incurred a weighty responsibility.

A fortnight before Easter the church edifices are all put in mourning, the ornaments generally removed, pictures vailed, and crosses clothed in violet in token of grief and penance. During this period the greatest activity prevails in preparations for the coming solemnities. Each church seeks to distinguish itself above its rivals by the splendor of its decorations, its pomp, music, lights, and all those outward appliances to attract the eye, in which the Roman people for upward of two thousand years have been so curious and critical. All the communities of sisters are as busy as so many hives of bees with the needle; embroidery, sewing, plaiting, bleaching, or repairing the linen of the altar, the damasks and velvet hangings of the churches, and the robes of the priesthood. To them as to their isolated brothers, the monks, the coming spectacles are an event in their monotonous lives, and they enter upon the work of preparation with all the zest of secular ambition, all striving to exalt the object of their labors before God and man by the splendor of their work. Their degree of success promotes correspondingly the veneration or enthusiasm of the people toward the particular patron saint they thus delight to honor. Consequently upon the good works of their hands hangs, in no small part, the piety of their congregations, for, as we have seen, their avowed object is to create a powerful impression upon the imagination. The Holy Week comprises the profoundest griefs and the greatest joys of the Church —comprising as it does the crucifixion and resurrection of the Saviour. All that human ingenuity and expense can provide, to make apparent the one and give eclat to the other, is lavished upon the ceremonies of this festival.

Rome overflows with a gaping, wondering, worshiping, or skeptical multitude. Whatever may be the creed of each individual, or whether of no creed at all, the entire mass come up to gaze upon the show. Albano, Frascati, Tivoli, and all the neighboring towns pour in their picturesque and handsome population by tens of thousands On a transalpine stranger no portion of this grand gala makes a more agreeable impression than the variety and beauty of the costumes and races about Rome. Slouched capped pilgrims, with staves, cockle shells, and scrips, are scarcer now than a few centuries back, but enough are to be seen to complete the romantic human variety which Rome calls from the four quarters of the globe, to witness the pride of her abasement. Every European country sends its representatives, and even the republicans of America add greatly to the throng.

Rome at no time has much to boast of in the extent and cleanliness of its accommodations. It it is a city a century behind all other European capitals in every public convenience except good water, in which, a legacy from Imperial Rome, it is as far ahead of them, possessing fountains and aqueducts sufficient for the wants of a million souls. The result is, that during Holy Week, Rome is crowded to an extent that Paris in its most brilliant fetes never realized. Prices are quadrupled. Indeed there is no limit to the demand of a Roman where the necessity is pressing. Every hotel and apartment is crammed at prices which rival those of California when houses were scarcer than golden ingots. Alas for those tardy ones who arrive but a few days before Palm Sunday! They are to be seen anxiously driving from hotel to hotel, and from apartment to apartment, imploring to be “taken in” on any terms, paying for the carriage gold in lieu of silver, and at last content to mount some hundred steps, grimed, one would suppose with the accumulated filth of centuries, to some dimly-lighted back room, a few feet square, containing little else but an apology for a bed on which some two or three are to take their slumbers at the rate of ten dollars per night. Such is not a rare experience. Others fare worse and pay less. Some are compelled to pass the night in their carriages.

Friends of mine paid a dollar each for the use of chairs at a cafe until morning—a counter to sleep upon was an unexpected luxury—some even are compelled to find quarters in towns ten or twelve miles from Rome.

A Roman shop-keeper or landlord is at all times a stolid, proud character, indifferent whether you buy, and careless whether you are accommodated. The former at times is too lazy to take down his own wares for a purchaser; the latter does better, but both during Holy Week are sublimely elevated above all personal exertions beyond raising their prices, to swell the stream of cash which is sure to flow into them, like their own golden Tiber in a flood. Above all considerations of dirt, punctuality, or even a sufficiency of food, the traveler must take his meals at hotel or cafe as he can get them. The table laid, there is a rush of the first coiners, who soon leave but a few cold fragments for those whose intuition could not tell them that the table-d'hotc of yesterday, at the fixed hour of seven, was to-day at four. The desperate mob at cafes is amusing. All the world being anxious to arrive at some solemn spectacle at the same moment, they all arc equally anxious to breakfast in season. Pell-mell they tumble into the cafes demanding coffee and toast in a dozen languages in one breath, carrying one forcibly back to the first breakfast-scene after the polyglot confusion at the Tower of Babel. The waiter slaps on the table an unwiped cup, and a napkin that has seen a week's hard service. After waiting in an agony of impatience, for fear the Pope will bless the faithful and you be found not among them, and no coffee in sight, you angrily again summon the waiter, who comes when he can. To your emphatic remonstrance he replies, "What would you have, Sir! it is Holy Week:"'— the stereotyped answer to every species of annoyance and extortion to which strangers arc subjected during this most unholy of periods, and with which they must be comforted, for none other will be vouchsafed.

To all the principal sights of the Church there are reserved scats or positions, for which tickets are issued in the ratio of about live to one as to accommodation. These are given to the several embassadors in proportion to the number of their applications, which of course greatly exceed the number of tickets they receive for distribution. Hence arises another scramble for these permits to witness the sacred mysteries within the privileged limits. Women are required to go in black and veiled ; men in a ball dress or uniform. By a strange anomaly, in all Catholic countries, the sicord has the preference of entry to all temples of the Princk of Prace. To return to the tickets. A hapless week is the Holy Week for the embassador or banker. He is besieged by notes, flattery, interest, and every weapon, feminine and masculine, to furnish the required billets of entry. How to gratify one, and not irritate five whom he can not provide for, is a moral problem our diplomatic Solons, and financial Rothschilds, are not always successful in solving. However, they do their best, and distribute the papal tickets, a different color for each day, as far as they will go.

Palm-Sunday, so called from Christ's triumphal entry into Jerusalem, is the first grand day of the holy scries. But preceding this there was formerly a stately cavaleade, when popes and cardinals were better riders than at present; but as it became necessary to tie some of the " eminentissimi," as the cardinals are called, on their steeds, on account of their defective horsemanship, and Pius VII., who succeeded the handsome Pius VI., being an infirm man, the custom was changed. Since then, when the procession passes into the street, the huge papal state-coach is used, in which the Pope follows the man carrying the cross, mounted on a white mule, his Holiness the meanwhile scattering his blessings over the crowd by an incessant twirl of three fingers, reminding one of the favorite Italian game of " morra." This coach, notwithstanding its color, was the special object of hate to the Red Republicans in1848, who woidd have destroyed it had they not had more respect for a sacred doll called " the most holy baby," to which it was given for its daily airings.