ers, who, at first sight, looked merely
loiterers. The patrol, of perhaps four hundred men, stood drawn up under
arms, waiting for the word to march. Gradually one perceived that the
crowds of soldiers who loitered about without muskets were not mere
spectators. Almost imperceptibly they closed round the patrol, pushed
back by the bystanders not in uniform, and then retreated, forming a
clear ring for the guard to move in. There was no pushing, no hustling,
no cries of any kind. After a few minutes the drums and fifes struck up,
the drum-major whirled his staff round in the air, the ring of soldier-
spectators parted, driving the crowd back on either side, and through the
clear space thus formed the patrol marched up the square, divided into
two columns, one going to the right, and the other to the left, and so
passed down the length of the Corso. The crowd made no sign, and raised
no shout as the troops went by, and only looked on in sullen silence. In
fact, the sole opinion I heard uttered was that of a French private, who
formed one of the ring, and who remarked to his comrade that this duty of
theirs was _sacre nom de chien de metier_, a remark in which I could not
but coincide. As soon as the patrol had passed, the crowd retreated into
the cafes or the back-streets, and in half-an-hour the Corso was as empty
as usual, and was left to the _sbirri_, who passed up and down slowly and
silently. Even in the small side-streets, which lead from the Corso to
the English quarters, I met knots of the Papal police accompanied by
French soldiers, and the suspicious scrutinizing glance they cast upon
you as you passed showed clearly enough they were out on business.

18 February.

The present has been a week of demonstrations, both Papal and anti-Papal.
Last Thursday was the Giovedi Grasso, the great people's day of the
carnival. In other years, from an early hour in the afternoon, there is
a constant stream of carriages and foot-passengers setting from all parts
of Rome towards the Corso. The back-streets and the ordinary promenades
are almost deserted. The delight of the Romans in the carnival is so
notorious, that persons long resident in Rome possessed the strongest
conviction beforehand, that no human power could ever keep the natives
from the Corso upon Thursday. The day, unlike its predecessors, was
brilliantly bright. The Corso was decked out as gaily as hangings and
awnings could make it. The selle