Pio Nono. After waiting ten minutes or so,
the folding doors in an upper gallery of the piazza were thrown open,
and I could see a head covered with a white skull-cap,--the Popes never
wear a wig,--passing along the corridor, just visible above the stone
ballustrade. In a minute the Pope had descended the stairs, and was
advancing along the open pavement to his carriage. The Swiss guard stood
to their halberds. A Frenchman and his lady,--the same, if I mistake
not, whom I had seen on the Scala Santa,--spreading his white
handkerchief on the causeway, uncovered and dropped on his knees; a row
of German students in red gowns went down in like manner; a score or so
of wretched-looking old men, who were digging up the grass in the
piazza, formed a prostrate group in the middle; and a little knot of
Englishmen,--some four of us only,--stood erect at about six yards from
the line of the procession.

Pio Nono, though king of the kings of the earth, was attired with severe
simplicity. His sole dress, save the skull-cap I have mentioned, and red
slippers, was a gown of white stuff, which enveloped his whole person
from the neck downwards, and looked not unlike a camlet morning
dressing-gown. A small cross which dangled on his breast was his only
ornament. The fisherman's ring I was too far off to see. In person he is
a portly, good-looking gentleman; and, could one imagine him entering
the pulpit of a Scotch Secession congregation, or an English Methodist
one, his appearance would be hailed with looks of satisfaction. His
colour was fresher than the average of Italy; and his face had less of
the priest in it than many I have seen. There was an air of easy good
nature upon it, which might be mistaken for benevolence, blended with a
smile, which appeared ever on the point of breaking into a laugh, and
which utterly shook the spectator's confidence in the firmness and good
faith of its owner. Pius stooped slightly; his gait was a sort of amble;
there was an air of irresolution over the whole man; and one was tempted
to pronounce,--though the judgment may be too severe,--that he was half
a rogue, half a fool. He waived his hand in an easy, careless way to the
students and Frenchman, and made a profound bow to the English party.

St Peter's is close by: let us enter it. As among the Alps, so here at
first, one is altogether unaware of the magnitudes before him. What
strikes you on entering is the vast sweep of the marble floor. It ru