and persons, chiefly men and boys,
assembled round the band, and as the patrols marched off down the Corso,
and towards the Castle of Saint Angelo, followed them with shouts of
"Viva l'Italia," "Viva Napoleone," and, most ominous of all, "Viva
Cavour." As soon as the patrols had passed the crowd dispersed, and
there was, apparently, an end of the matter. The next night poured with
rain, with such a rain as only Rome can supply; and yet, in spite of the
rain, a good number of people collected to see the guard march off, and
again a few seditious or patriotic cries (the two terms are here
synonymous) were heard. Such things in Italy, and in Rome especially,
are matters of grave importance, and the Government was evidently
alarmed. Contrary to general expectation, and I suspect to the hopes of
the clerical party, the French general has issued no notice, as he did
last year, forbidding these demonstrations. However, the patrols have
been much increased, and great numbers of the Pontifical gendarmes have
been brought into the city. On Tuesday night the Papal police made
several arrests, and a report was spread by the priests that the French
troops had orders to fire at once, if any attempt was made to create
disturbance. On the same night, too, there was a demonstration at the
Apollo. I have heard, from several quarters, that on some of the
Pontifical soldiers entering the house, the whole audience left the
theatre, with very few exceptions. However, in this city one gets to
have a cordial sympathy with the unbelieving Thomas, and not having been
present at the theatre myself, I cannot endorse the story.

Last night I strolled down the Corso to see the guard pass. The street
was very full, at least full for Rome, where the streets seem empty at
their fullest, and numerous groups of men were standing on the door-steps
and at the shop windows. Mounted patrols passed up and down the street,
and wherever there seemed the nucleus of a crowd forming, knots of the
Papal _sbirri_, with their long cloaks and cocked hats pressed over their
eyes, and furtive hang-dog looking countenances, elbowed their way
unopposed and apparently unnoticed. In the square itself there were a
hundred men or so, chiefly, I should judge, strangers or artists, a group
of young ragamuffins, who had climbed upon the pedestals of the columns,
and seemed actuated only by the curiosity natural to the boy genus, and a
very large number of French soldi