brilliant with hangings, crimson and gold, and colored tapestry hung
from the windows of the surrounding houses. Here the tombola was held,
and here the crowd was excited as usual; the lucky ones bearing off the
prizes were in such rapturous state of bliss--'one might have stuck pins
into them without their feeling it.'

About sunset, Gaetano and Caper saddled their horses, and left the city,
striking over the valley to Segni, passing on the road country people
mounted on donkeys, or travelling along on foot, nine tenths of whom
were vigorously canvassing--the life of Saint Magno?--no, indeed, but
the chances of the lottery!

There was to have been the next day, at Anagni, a curious chase of
buffaloes, in accordance with some passage in the life of San Magno, as
the people said; but, according to Rocjean, more probably some neglected
ceremony of the ancient heathens, which the party in power, finding they
could not abolish, gracefully tacked on to the back of the protector of
the city. These kind of things are done to an alarming extent around
Rome; and the Sieur de Rocjean, when he lost his calendar containing the
dates of all the festivals, said it was of no importance--he had and
excellent Lempriere!

The fifth festival--if you have patience to read about it--was held at
GENAZZANO, and was decidedly the most celebrated one of the season. It
came off on the 8th of September, and for costumes, picturesqueness, and
general effect, might have been called, to copy from piano literature,
_Le Songe d'un Artiste_.

The town itself looks as if it had just been kicked out of a theatre.
Round towers at entrance gates, streets narrow and all up hill, the
tiles on the houses running down to see what is going on in the gutter,
quaint old houses, gray with time, with latticed windows, queer old
doors, a grand old castle in ruins. It is one of the scenes you long so
much to see before you come abroad, and which you so seldom find along
the Grande Route. Spend a summer in the mountain towns of Italy! among
the Volscian mountains or hills--and have your eyes opened.

As Caper entered the gate, the first objects meeting his sight were: a
procession of genuine pilgrims, dressed precisely as you see them in
Robert le Diable, or Linda di Chamouni, or on the stage generally--long
gray robes down to their feet, cocked hats with cockle shells, long
wands; some barefoot, some with sandals: on they passed, singing
religious songs. Then c