Probably few ever heard of horses and other animals going to church. Of course, horses are driven with carriages to the churches, and occasionally some well-behaved, intelligent dog is allowed to enter and remain through the service. But in Spain they have a day set apart and a special service for animals. January 17 is San Antonio's day, and he is the patron saint of all four-footed animals, and one would think also of many who have two feet, if one might judge from the number who bear his name. In Madrid there is a church named after him, and on the morning of the 17th of January I joined the crowds of people who were making their way to this church. It was nearly noon when the procession of animals made their appearance,—horses, mules, donkeys, and oxen, gayly decorated with ribbons, or having braided worsted rosettes and tassels fastened to their manes and tails. Sometimes the latter were so braided and tied as to assume the shape of the cross. Their owners or drivers rode on the horses, many of which were beautiful creatures, especially those belonging to the bull-fighters, who kept them prancing and dancing through the crowd. But the horses were more careful than their riders, and not infrequently one would step over instead of upon some little urchin who ran under his feet. These were followed by such lovely ponies, with little boys dressed in the gay costume of the bull-fighters. I was sorry to hear that these boys were being trained for that cruel sport. Then came the mules. We rarely see such fine specimens of these animals in this country. They were of all colors; some, being perfectly white, looked very fine with their red and yellow streamers. After them followed the cunning little donkeys. For this day, at least, they were clean, and some of them quite deserved the epithet "sweet," which an enthusiastic admirer of the little beasts always gave them. Last came the immense oxen, which in Spain draw all the heavy burdens. They wore frontlets over their eyes, and made me think of passages in the Bible referring to frontlets. Every rider carried a bag of barley, larger or smaller, according to his means. When the procession reached the church, where numerous priests were in attendance, each animal was marched up to the door or a window; a prayer was muttered over him, the bag of barley was given to the priest, who, taking out a handful, blessed this and gave it to the owner, keeping the lion's share as his own. The pious Spaniard puts a grain or two of this blessed barley into his beast's daily food to keep him from all disease during the year. The priests sell their share, which, if five hundred animals come for the blessing, amounts to five hundred bags, and sometimes there are many more. No one seemed to regard this festival as a religious ceremony, but rather as an occasion for a holiday frolic. And the next day the poor mules and donkeys were beaten and cursed as hard as ever, even while they still wore their gay trimmings as mementos of the day they went to church, or, as these Catholics would say, "went to mass."—Cor. of Little Helper.