far as fashion and gaiety are concerned, and these go far to make the
vigour and wealth of a rising town. It is, however, busy and industrious
in its trade and commerce, and alive with factories; yet recent events
have left very distinct traces in Turin, almost more so than in any
other Italian city.

Turin, or _Torino_, was founded by the Taurini, a Ligurian tribe, and
was destroyed by Annibal about the year 218 B.C. It was ruled
during the Middle Ages by its own dukes. The House of Savoy continued to
hold it from the middle of the eleventh century until the late
disturbances in Italy. Most of the streets of Turin converge into the
Piazza di Castello, in the centre of which stands the Palazzo Madama, a
weird-looking, half-ruined building overgrown with ivy, with a gloomy
look about its desolate towers. It is a fine and picturesque old place,
especially on a moonlight night--a unique relic of the Middle Ages. Near
it are the Royal Palace and the Duomo. The former is not unlike a
barrack externally; but it contains a noble staircase and fine
banqueting and reception rooms, the ceiling and floors being especially
worthy of admiration. From the palace chapel, which is entered from the
great hall, you can look right down to the Cathedral adjoining. This
chapel of the Santo Sadano (or Holy Napkin) was built in 1648, to
receive one of the folds of the shroud in which the Saviour was supposed
to have been wrapped by Joseph of Arimathaea. This relic is contained in
an altar under the cupola. One cannot help feeling anger and amazement
at these miserable impostures on the ignorance of credulous devotees. We
were actually shown by one of the priests an oblong frame, about thirty
inches by twelve, containing a tracing, probably photographed, of this
holy napkin, which, having been pressed against the Saviour's face,
retained the imprint of His features; and so this piece of old linen was
duly worshipped, and has probably brought a comfortable income to the
priests from the pockets of the superstitious and easily beguiled
multitude. There is no end to the so-called marvels in these Romish
churches.

The Cathedral is built on the site of a Lombard church of the seventh
century, but does not contain anything of much interest. Indeed, among
the hundred churches at Turin, there are really few worth a visit;
perhaps the Consolata Church, including a chapel of the tenth century,
is the best of these. Canon Wordsworth quotes an incident