Then came the elevation and exhibition of the holy relic; and at ten o'clock the procession of the pilgrims commenced. Gens-d'armes were stationed without, the clergy of the cathedral within,—whilst, in the immediate neighbourhood of the relic, was a guard of honour, composed of the most respectable of the citizens, and recognised by their silk sashes over the shoulder, in the yellow and red colours of the city. Benches were placed from the portal on the right side of the cathedral, to the choir, and between these the procession moved. Each of the pilgrims was allowed to stand a short time before the relic, yet so vast was the concourse, that between one and two thousand are reported to have passed in the short space of an hour.

The relic itself was placed near the altar in a gold frame, with a glass front at a considerable distance from it; its shape resembling a French blouse,—the colour somewhat brown—though the poor peasantry were taught to believe that to every eye it presented a combination of colours entirely distinct. An opening was made on each side of the frame, to allow the hand to come in contact with the relic; and whatever did touch it, was believed to acquire a peculiar sanctity. A deep basin was placed in front, to receive the offerings of the pilgrims, which were to be given to the Cathedrals at Treves and Cologne, and to a Catholic seminary in the former city.

No certificate of creed was required, so that the crowds of Protestants, who were drawn from mere curiosity, had the fullest opportunity of seeing what was to be seen. The ceremony continued daily, during the whole six weeks, for twelve hours, and was opened and closed by the chime of the cathedral bells. At the commencement the weather was fine, but in a few days it became quite unsettled and stormy; yet nothing could damp the long-cherished ardour of the pilgrims. Band after band advanced, and, like the crusaders of old, all the sufferings and hardships of the journey were forgotten as they approached the Holy City. The fatigues of long travelling were so far relieved by addresses from the clergy who marched with their parishioners, and still more by the sacred music which, ever and anon, filled the air. Vast bodies of clergy, from distant parts, arrived to take part in the ceremonial with the general body of the faithful, and, afterwards, share in the heavy duties of the Mass and the Confessional, as required for such an extraordinary occasion. At last, to complete the arrangements, on the evening of the 23d, an immense banner, with a red cross on a white ground, was elevated to the top of the cathedral, to direct the weary steps of the pilgrims, and to cheer their hearts as they approached the august city. So vast occasionally was the concourse, that on some days not fewer than about 20,000 were quartered within the walls. Fortunately such arrangements had been made with regard to the supplies of provisions, that but a small rise of price in the necessaries of life was perceptible, which is certainly remarkable, when it is stated that in one week, at least 150,000 strangers visited the city, and in the whole time about 1,200,000. Truth also requires the remark—that, taken as a whole, matters were conducted with general decorum and regularity, though it requires but little knowledge of human nature to see that where there was such a miscellaneous concourse of people, often ill fed and ill lodged, the ordinary regulations and observances of society would be disregarded, and a strong encouragement and temptation be given to immorality and crime. Although it was officially stated that there was accommodation in the city and neighbourhood for 20,000 persons, still all the powers of military police, and clergy combined, could not prevent many mournful scenes of misery and vice. It is, by the way, a most significant fact that, along with the announcement now mentioned there was added, under equally official authority, the urgent request that "all citizens and strangers should avoid all criticism on religious matters or opinions." If anything were required to convince one that the high authorities of Treves were afraid of the effects of free discussion, or even doubtful allusion to what might well make the most bigoted inquisitive, this significant sentence is sufficient. Such were the scenes which, with every variety of incident, were being enacted at Treves—a melancholy exhibition of priestly power to give currency and strength to superstition and blind idolatry, as well as of the state of passive submission on the part of the people, to all that the Church, in the arrogance of its blasphemies, may command. The voice of politics was, for a time, hushed—the busy commerce of the city, and even the harvest labours of the field were silent—everything like this world's occupations and concerns were all alike neglected, to give pomp and emphasis to the sad spectacle of men's faith deceived and led astray by a piece of an old garment. Not merely from the poor villages in the vicinity, but from the enlightened towns on the Rhine, from Coblentz, and Bonn, and Cologne, the processions of pilgrims came. Take one specimen:—On the evening of the 22d September, a most numerous procession, which had left Cologne nine days before for Treves, returned. This procession was composed chiefly of the lowest classes, with a vast proportion of women of every age. A body of white-dressed girls had advanced a long way to meet the procession, bearing all kinds of church emblems in their hands—crucifixes, flowers, anchors, hearts, &c. The pilgrims were all supplied with medals and engravings of the Holy Coat, as well as with small books containing an account of its history and miracles. These were people who looked poor and miserable, and who evidently had not the means to undertake such a journey, and yet, such was the passion for visiting Treves, that the pawnbrokers reaped a rich harvest from the desperate attempts made to collect money enough to supply their bare wants during their absence from home, and to give their votive offerings to be applied as before mentioned. Cases the most heart-rending have been published of poor people parting with their last possessions to obtain means for the journey, from which they looked for such marvellous results. The sick even were carried thither, with the firm belief that they would be healed; and the debased devotion of the pilgrims broke out in such expressions—"Holy Coat, we pray to thee. Holy Coat, pray for us," and the like. The higher classes, of course, consulted their own convenience in their modes of travelling, employing the Rhine and Moselle steamers or their private conveyances; but it is melancholy to think, that such vast bodies of the respectable classes did lend their influence to these unholy exhibitions.

But without entering into farther details let us hasten to the closing scene on the 7th October. At 2 p.m. the doors of the Cathedral were closed, and the ceremony of removing the holy relic from public view proceeded with in presence of the whole body of the clergy. At four the doors were re-opened, and Bishop Arnoldi delivered a discourse, to a vast audience, on the "Unity of the Church." At its close, began the procession of the civil officials, of teachers of all grades, of merchants and artisans, and of the guard of honour, dressed in black, with wax torches, through the transept into the choir, to join in the Te Deum. After the hymn of St. Ambrose had been sung, accompanied by the thunder of the cannon and the pealing of all the bells in the city and neighbourhood, the general procession advanced through the chief streets of the city. The committee were in front, followed by the guard of honour; they were succeeded by the different fraternities, all with wax candles—a strong choir of singers, then vast crowds of the people, with the various trades, each with their peculiar flags and emblems. They proceeded through the chief parts of the city to the palace of the Bishop, which was brilliantly illuminated. He, accompanied by the head Bishop of Verdun and the