begun. At the Gospel--at the stroke of twelve, a match is applied to a
fusee, and instantly the white dove flies along the rope, pouring forth
a tail of fire, down the nave, out at the west gates, over the heads of
the crowd, reaches the _carro_, ignites a fusee there, turns, and, still
propelled by its fiery tail, whizzes along the cord again, till it has
reached its perch on the pole in the choir, when the fire goes out and it
remains stationary. But in the meantime the match ignited by the dove has
communicated with the squibs and crackers attached to the _carro_, and the
whole mass of painted wood and flowers is enveloped in fire and smoke, from
which issue sheets of flame and loud detonations. Meanwhile, mass is being
sung composedly within the choir, as though nothing was happening without.
The fireworks continue to explode for about a quarter of an hour, and
then the great garlanded oxen, white, with huge horns, are reyoked to the
_carro_, and it is drawn away.

The flight of the dove for its course of about 540 feet is watched by the
peasants with breathless attention, for they take its easy or jerky flight
as ominous of the weather for the rest of the year and of the prospects of
harvest. If the bird sails along without a hitch, then the summer will be
fine, but if there be sluggishness of movement, and one halt, then another,
the year is sure to be one of storms and late frosts and hail.

Now what is the origin of this extraordinary custom--a custom that is
childish, and yet is so curious that one would hardly wish to see it
abolished?

Several stories are told to explain it, none very satisfactory. According
to one, a Florentine knight was in the crusading host of Godfrey de
Bouillon, and was the first to climb the walls of Jerusalem, and plant
thereon the banner of the Cross. He at once sent tidings of the recovery of