stands in the church, and represents the apostle as holding his own
skin, which had been drawn off like drapery over his shoulders. The play
of the muscles is represented with an accuracy, that rather disgusts and
terrifies than pleases the spectator.[1] The exterior of the chancel is
lined with marble divided into panels, each of which has its _basso
relievo_; the interior is wainscoted, and carved in a very masterly
style. The whole of the chancel was erected by St. Charles Borromeo.

[1] The following lines are inscribed on its pedestal, in Latin,
and in English:--

Lest at the sculptor doubtfully you guess,
'Tis Marc Agrati, not Praxiteles.

This statue is reckoned worth its weight in gold.

In describing this magnificent cathedral, we have availed ourselves of
abridging the description in Eustace's "Classical Tour," a work of high
authority and sterling value on all subjects connected with the Fine
Arts.

* * * * *

RUSTIC AMUSEMENTS.

(_To the Editor of the Mirror_.)

Three years ago you gave a pleasing illustration of "_the Amusements
of May_," and at the same time lamented the decrease of village
festivity and rural merriment, which in days langsyne cheered the honest
hearts and lightened the daily toil of our rustic ancestors. From the
sentiments you express on that occasion, I am led to fancy that it will
afford you pleasure to hear that the song, the dance, and innocent
revelry are not quite forgotten in some part of our land, and that the
sweet and smiling spring is not suffered to make his lovely appearance
without one welcome shout from the sons and daughters of our happy
island; and, therefore, I will recount to you (and by your permission
to the readers of the MIRROR) a village fete which I lately witnessed
and enjoyed. On the 9th inst. (Whit-Tuesday), after a few miles' walk,
I arrived in the village of Shillingston (_Dorsetshire_), whose
inhabitants annually dedicate this day to those pastimes which (as one
of your correspondents has observed) seem a sort of first offering to
gentle skies, and are consecrated by the smiles of the tender year.
Attracted by musical sounds, and following my ears instead of my nose,
I soon found my way to the vicarage-house, where the company were just
arriving in procession, preceded by a pink and white silken banner,
while a pipe and tabor regulated their march. Next after the music
w