healthiest of them resembled, to use an expression of Marryat's,
"Hunger's eldest son when he had come of age"; the others were either
blind, had withered legs and crept about on their hands, or withered
arms and fingerless hands. It was the most wretched misery, dragged
from among the filthiest rags. "Excellenza, miserabili!" sighed they,
thrusting forth their deformed limbs to view. Even the hostess, with
bare feet, uncombed hair, and dressed in a garment of doubtful color,
received the guests grumblingly. The doors were fastened with a loop of
string; the floor of the rooms presented a stone paving half torn
up; bats fluttered wildly about the ceiling; and as to the smell
therein--no--that was beyond description.

"You had better lay the cloth below in the stable," said one of the
travellers; "there, at all events, one knows what one is breathing."

The windows were quickly opened, to let in a little fresh air. Quicker,
however, than the breeze, the withered, sallow arms of the beggars were
thrust in, accompanied by the eternal whine of "Miserabili, miserabili,
excellenza!" On the walls were displayed innumerable inscriptions,
written in nearly every language of Europe, some in verse, some in
prose, most of them not very laudatory of "bella Italia."

The meal was served. It consisted of a soup of salted water, seasoned
with pepper and rancid oil. The last ingredient played a very prominent
part in the salad; stale eggs and roasted cocks'-combs furnished the
grand dish of the repast; the wine even was not without a disgusting
taste--it was like a medicinal draught.

At night the boxes and other effects of the passengers were placed
against the rickety doors. One of the travellers kept watch while the
others slept. The sentry was our young Divine. How close it was in the
chamber! The heat oppressive to suffocation--the gnats hummed and stung
unceasingly--the "miserabili" without whined and moaned in their sleep.

"Travelling would be agreeable enough," said he groaning, "if one only
had no body, or could send it to rest while the spirit went on its
pilgrimage unhindered, whither the voice within might call it. Wherever
I go, I am pursued by a longing that is insatiable--that I cannot
explain to myself, and that tears my very heart. I want something better
than what is but what is fled in an instant. But what is it, and where
is it to be found? Yet, I know in reality what it is I wish for. Oh!
most happy were I, cou