have to
give up the Grotto--unless I have a pipe under my nose, as
counter-irritant.'

The three artists tramped along gayly, until they approached the town,
when they assumed the proud, disdainful mood, assuring spectators that
they who wear it are of gentle blood, and are tired of life and weary of
traveling around with pockets filled with gold. They only looked coldly
at the pens filled with cattle for sale; long-horned, mouse-colored oxen
were there; groups of patient donkeys, or the rough-maned,
shaggy-fetlocked, bright-eyed small horses of the Campagna; countless
pigs, many goats; while above all, the loud-singing jackasses were
performing at the top of their lungs. Here were knots of country-people,
buying provisions or clothing; there were groups of carriages from Rome,
which had rolled out the wealthy _forestieri_ or strangers, drawn up by
the way-side, in the midst of all sorts and kinds of hucksters. The road
leading to the church, shaded by trees, was crowded with country-people,
in picturesque costumes, busily engaged in buying and selling hams,
bacon, bacon and hams, and a few more hams. Here and there, a
cheese-stand languished, for pork flourished. Now a copper-smith exposed
his wares, chief among which were the graceful-shaped _conche_ or
water-vessels, the same you see so carefully poised on the heads of so
many black-eyed Italian girls, going to or coming from so many
picturesque fountains, in--paintings, and all wearing such brilliant
costumes, as you find at--Gigi's costume-class. Then came an ironmonger,
whose wares were all made by hand, even the smallest nails; for
machinery, as yet, is in its first infancy around Rome. At this stand,
Roejean stopped to purchase a pallet-knife; not one of the regular,
artist-made tools, but a thin, pliable piece of steel, without handle,
which experience taught him was well adapted to his work. As usual, the
iron-man asked twice as much as he intended to take, and after a sharp
bargain, Roejean conquered. Then they came to a stand where there were
piles of coarse crockery, and some of a better kind, of classical shape.

Caper particularly admired a beautiful white jug, intended for a
water-pitcher, and holding about two gallons. After asking its price, he
offered a quarter of the money for it; to Bagswell's horror, the
crockery-man took it, and Caper, passing his arm through the handle, was
proceeding up the road, when Bagswell energetically asked him what he