chino, a fine rich picture; an exquisite Andromeda, by Guido,
painted with his usual delicacy and sentiment; the twelve Apostles, by
Rubens, some of them very fine; "the Five Senses," said to be by Carlo
Cignani, but if so he has surpassed himself: it is like Domenichino.
The Death of Samson, by L. Carracci, wearies the eye by the number and
confusion of the figures: it has no principal group upon which the
attention can rest. There is also a fine portrait of Nicolo Poussin,
by himself, and an interesting head of Guido.

At three o'clock we went down to the Capella Sistina to hear the
Miserere. In describing the effect produced by this divine music, the
time, the place, the scenic contrivance should be taken into account:
the time--solemn twilight, just as the shades begin to fall around:
the place--a noble and lofty hall where the terrors of Michel Angelo's
Last Judgment are rendered more terrible by the gathering gloom, and
his sublime Prophets frown dimly upon us from the walls above. The
extinguishing of the tapers, the concealed choir, the angelic voices
chosen from among the finest in the world, and blended by long
practice into the most perfect unison, were combined to produce that
overpowering effect which has so often been described. Many ladies
wept, and one fainted. Unassisted vocal music is certainly the finest
of all: no power of instruments could have thrilled me like the
blended stream of melancholy harmony, breathed forth with such an
expression of despairing anguish, that it was almost too much to bear.

_Good-Friday._--I saw more new, amusing, and delightful things
yesterday, than I can attempt to describe or even enumerate: but I
think there is no danger of my forgetting general impressions: if my
memory should fail me in particulars, my imagination can always recall
the whole.

In the morning I declined going to see the ceremonies at the Vatican.
The procession of the host from the Sistine to the Pauline Chapel; the
washing of the Pilgrims' feet, etc.--all these things are less than
indifferent to me; and the illness and absence of the poor old pope
rendered them particularly uninteresting. Every body went but myself;
and it was agreed that we should all meet at the door of the Sistine
Chapel at five o'clock. I remained quietly at home on my sofa till
one; and then drove to the Museum of the Vatican, where I spent the
rest of the day; it was a grand festa, and the whole of the Vatican,
including t