yield, especially in a matter of popular and vital concern, and the archbishop, therefore, determined to adopt the severest method at once, and by an order of cessatio divinis, to stop, immediately, all religious worship throughout the colony. This was a direful interdict, the potency of which can only be imagined by those who have lived in Catholic countries whose piety is not periodically regulated upon the principle of a seven day clock, but where worship is celebrated from hour to hour in the churches. The doors of chapels, cathedrals and religious buildings were firmly closed. A death-like silence prevailed over the land. No familiar bells sounded for matins or vespers. The people, usually warned by them of their hours of labor or repose, had now no means of measuring time. The priests went from house to house, lamenting the grievous affliction with which the country was visited and sympathizing cordially with the people. The church mourned for the unnatural pains her rebellious son had brought upon her patient children. But still the contumacious Mexia sold his corn and exacted his price!
At length, however, popular discontent became so clamorous, that even among this orderly and enduring people, the life of the viceroy's agent was no longer safe. He retreated therefore from his own dwelling to the palace, which was strongly guarded, and demanded protection from Gelves. The viceroy admitted him and took issue with the archbishop. He immediately sent orders to the priests and curates of the several parishes, to cause the orders of interdict and excommunication to be torn from the church walls, and all the chapels to be thrown open for service. But the resolute clergy, firm in their adherence to the prelate, would receive no command from the viceroy. Finding the churches still closed, and the people still more clamorous and angry, Gelves commanded De la Serna to revoke his censures; but the archbishop answered, that "what he had done was but an act of divine justice against a cruel oppressor of the poor, whose cries had moved him to compassion,