rich and
noble Paduan had called it his in other days; now it received as guests
the courier and the wayfarer. Its massive walls were quite naked, and
enclosed an apartment so spacious, that its extremities were lost in
darkness. Some dozen of small tables, all ready for dinner being served
upon them, occupied the floor; and some three or four persons were
seated at dinner. I took my seat at one of the tables, and was instantly
served with capillini soup, and the usual _et ceteras_. I made a good
repast, despite the haunted look of the chamber. On the conclusion of my
dinner I repaired to the market-place, and, till the hour of _diligence_
should arrive, I began pacing the pavement beneath the shadow of the
town-hall, which looks as if it had been built as a kind of anticipation
of the crystal palace, and the roof of which is said to be the largest
unsupported by pillars in the world. It covers--so the Paduans
believe--the bones of Livy, who is claimed as a native of Padua. It was
here Petrarch died, which has given occasion to Lazzarini to join
together the cradle of the historian and the tomb of the poet, in the
following lines addressed to Padua:--

Here was he born whose lasting page displays
Rome's brightest triumphs, and who painted best;
Fit style for heroes, nor to shun the test,
Though Grecian art should vie, and Attic lays.
And here thy tuneful swan, Arezzo lies,
Who gave his Laura deathless name; than whom
No bard with sweeter grace has poured the song.
O, happy seat! O, favoured by the skies!
What store and store is thine, to whom belong
So rich a cradle and so rich a tomb!

I bought a pennyworth of grapes from one of the poor stall-keepers, and,
in return for my coin, had my two extended palms literally heaped. I can
safely say that the vine of Padua has not declined; the fruit was
delicious; and, after making my way half through my purchase, I
collected a few hungry boys, and divided the fragments amongst them.

It was late and dark when, ensconced in the interior of the _diligence_,
we trundled out of the poor ruined town. The night was dreary and
somewhat cold; I courted sleep, but it came not. My companions were
mostly young Englishmen, but not of the intellectual stamp of the
companion from whom I had parted that morning on the quay of Venice.
They appeared to be travelling about mainly to look at pictures and
smoke cigars. As to learning anything, they ridiculed the idea o