go back into the dark rooms behind their shops, to sit down to regular meals. They stand munching, in the open air, their minestra, their sausage, their ham, or their cheese, and seem to belong to that class of people, who only eat to satisfy the cravings of want. The wharves of Genoa were thronged with a busy population, but of the worst class, and we hurried away from them to look at the better part of the city.

Here we first renewed our acquaintance with those remarkable monuments of art and mågnificence, that, under the names of Cathedrals and Basilicas, abound in Italy. Their antiquity, their richness, their massive structure and costly materials, excite the admiration of the traveller, and he gazes with astonishment, and often with instruction, at the splendid works of human art, erected to the glory of God; but they fail to excite those feelings of solemnity and reverence, that should pervade temples dedicated to the worship of the Creator!

After spending the greater part of the day in visiting the palaces and churches, we strolled through the principal streets to the famous walk of Acqua Sola. It is situated on an elevated, rising piece of ground, and is divided by beautiful gravelled walks, and carriage ways, and terraces, and is lined with trees and flowers. Benches are placed along the walks at convenient distances, and stone seats, invite the pedestrian to rest. The Genoese, however, require no invitation. Every

where, we saw lying on the benches, and basking in the sun, poor, miserable, half-naked lazzaroni, sleeping their hours away, too lazy to work, too lazy even to beg. We kept on, until we came to the fountain, and we seated ourselves to watch the passers-by, and to catch a glimpse of the Genoese females, so noted for their graceful costumes. Not far from us sat, or rather lay, a characteristic group! Two men, with their caps thrown down beside them, without jackets, and stretched nearly at full length on the ground, were deeply absorbed in their national game of Morra. Their eyes followed each other and flashed, their fingers moved like lightning, and as they called out the number, they watched each other's hands, as if the liberty of Sardinia were depending on the result, instead of a bottle of Conigliano! A number of lazy spectators lay around, watching the game, and breaking in occasionally with a per Dio! when a fortunate guess attracted their admiration, and roused them from torpor! This simple game seems to be the only thing that can rouse the lazzaroni, and you often see them, in the wineshops, excited to an unwonted degree, and hoarse with bellowing at the top of their voices, over this popular amusement!

CHAPTER VIII.

Landing at Civita Vecchia-The Political Economy of Italy-A Diligence and its Accompaniments—The Entrance to Rome— Painting and Religion-A Roman Funeral-A Question in Natural History-Capuchin Burial-Place-Monte Pincio-Rome from the Capitol-The Coliseum-An Illumination.

HAVING landed at Civita Vecchia, we thought ourselves fairly on our way to the interior of Italy; but how much trouble did that landing cost! Our passports were sent on shore to be examined by the officials. We waited, in great anxiety, on board the steamer, to see the list returned of those who might have the high privilege of entering the Papal dominions. We should not have been at all surprised to have found our names excluded, either because they were suspicious in the opinion of the police, or because of some flaw in our title papers. We were fortunate, however; only one of our passengers was refused admission. His name sounded in Italian something like the name of somebody else, who might be troublesome.

The unlucky stranger protested—the captain interceded and we went ashore, leaving Mr. S., trying to satisfy the Pope's officers that he was not Mr. L., in disguise-"the description was so

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much like." We had scarcely got rid of the battaliero, who had been following us for a double pour boire, when we were beset by the faquini, who seized on our trunks and hurried them away from us, at great speed, towards the police office. Twice they examined the contents, at the police office and at the custom-house, and were evidently disappointed at finding nothing forbidden or dangerous. All this time, our hands were in our pockets, hunting for baiocchi, and guarding the residue from the suspicious-looking crowd around us. By dint of patience and importunity, of extraordinary politeness to the higher officials, and of innumerable baiocchi to the underlings, we got our trunks "plumbed" and "staged." thought, as a matter of amusement, of the number of payments we had made for being annoyed. We paid the boatman, besides his fare, a douceur ; we paid the fellow who put our trunks on shore; we paid the faquino, who ran off with them against our will; we paid the police officer who looked at them; we paid another brigand of a fellow, who hurried us and them to the customhouse; we paid the man at the custom-house who opened our trunks; we paid the officer who gave us a certificate of their weight; we paid the man who plumbed them; and we paid the ragged porter who handed them up, and the still more ragged porter who strapped them on the stage. What perfection each one of these performers ought to attain, in his peculiar department, it takes a poli

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tical economist superior to Say to determine, for such a division of labor he never dreamed of. But all these payments put together amount to scarcely anything. Add them all up and you are astonished at the small expense with which you have been liberal. It is not the actual cost, it is the trouble, that annoys you. Pay it as a single item, and you put it down to sundries, and never think of it again. All this time, we have forgotten the beggars; but then they are more mindful, they have not forgotten us. They are swarming around. They have followed the passengers all the way from the boat, and attend to their calling with a perseverance that characterizes no other occupation in Italy. We have just paid the faquino, and are paying off the beggars, when we are reminded that our passports require to be visé'd. We have but little time to lose, and employ a commissionario. He starts off in great haste and in great glee, and returns after a reasonable time, his face all over delight, with our little book, curiously stamped in different places, and a long bill of items paid at the different consulates, the American consul, being by law entitled to nothing, of course, makes the heaviest charge. We pay again, and get into the diligence.

Did you ever see an Italian diligence? If not, you have no idea of the rude, rumbling, misshapen, dusty vehicle; of its coupé in front, for the favored few; of its intérieur, for the ordinary travellers; of its rotonde, for the poorer classes; of its banquette perched up in the air; of its great pile