rucifixion; it
looks as if it had been _sawed_ very accurately in half from top to
bottom; but this of course only renders it more miraculous. Here is
also the column in front of Pilate's house, to which our Saviour was
bound, and the very well where he met the woman of Samaria. All these,
and various other relics, supposed to be consecrated by our Saviour's
Passion, are carelessly thrown into the cloisters--not so the heads of
St. Peter and St. Paul, which are considered as the chief treasures in
the Lateran, and are deposited in the body of the church in a rich
shrine. The beautiful sarcophagus of red porphyry, which once stood
in the Portico of the Pantheon, and contained the ashes of Agrippa,
is now in the Corsini chapel here, and encloses the remains of some
Pope Clement. The bronze equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, which
stands on the Capitol, was dug from the cloisters of the Lateran. The
statue of Constantine in the portico was found in the baths of
Constantine: it is in a style of sculpture worthy the architecture of
the cloisters.--Constantine was the first Christian emperor, a glory
which has served to cover a multitude of sins; it is indeed impossible
to forget that he was the chosen instrument of a great and blessed
revolution; but in other respects it is as impossible to look back to
the period of Constantine without horror--an era when bloodshed and
barbarism, and the general depravity of morals and taste seemed to
have reached their climax.

On leaving the Lateran, we walked to the Scala Santa, said to be the
very flights of steps which led to the judgment hall at Jerusalem, and
transported hither by the Emperor Constantine; but while the other
relics which his pious benevolence bestowed on the city of Rome have
apparently lost some of their efficacy, the Scala Santa is still
regarded with the most devout veneration. At the moment of our
approach, an elegant barouche drove up to the portico, from which two
well-dressed women alighted, and pulling out their rosaries, began to
crawl up the steps on their hands and knees, repeating a Paternoster
and an Ave Maria on every step. A poor diseased beggar had just gone
up before them, and was a few steps in advance. This exercise, as we
are assured, purchases a thousand years of indulgence. The morning was
concluded by a walk on the Mont Pincio.

I did not know on that first morning after our arrival, when I ran up
the Scalla della Trinita to the top of the