, with a wo-begone
countenance,--Sancho's ass not more triste--ruminating over a heap of
fresh vegetables, which he feebly snuffs, and wants resolution to
stoop his head and munch; whilst his adopted friend, the large
house-dog, totally regardless of his charge, sleeps heavily in the
opposite corner of the court.

It required an early dinner, and a long siesta afterwards, in our
darkened, water-sprinkled rooms, to resuscitate us to any fresh
exertion; but as the Ave Maria approached, we were sufficiently
refreshed to climb the Quirinal Mount, in order to witness one of our
few remaining Roman sunsets from its summit. We pass, to reach it,
down the Via Felice, across the Piazza Barberini, and up the steepest
hill in Rome, by the Via Quatro Fontani; from its brow, we look
momentarily down on the Viminal side, to Santa Maria Maggiore, with
all the other objects that present themselves to view from this spot;
and presently find ourselves at the end of that long street of
convents and churches, which issues at its other extremity in the
Porta Pia, forming a straight line of nearly a mile and a half in
length; and here we are in that well-known Piazza, which is bounded on
one side by the Papal Palace and its gardens; on the opposite by the
Colonna and its ruin-scattered grounds; backed by the palaces
Ruspigliosi and Guardi Nobile, and an open view of the Campagna in
front. No position could have been better chosen than this, for the
display of the two finest colossal statues in the world; they stand in
the midst, with the Theban Obelisk and the Roman Fountain between
them, all blending into a matchless group. As we look from this lofty
vantage ground, high over the roofs of Rome, we see the sun preparing
to take farewell of us, behind the ridge of Monte Mario; but the
convent walls on the height where we stand enjoy his beams a few
minutes longer, though they have ceased to strike upon the city at its
foot. Soon, however, he touches the horizon and begins to dip; the
palace windows behind us blaze away as if for an illumination; and
when the last golden speck has disappeared from the ridge, the whole
landscape changes colour; the yellow tint is instantaneously
transformed into a rosy light, deepening, and becoming more and more
beautiful every minute, till the short southern twilight is over; the
somewhat harsh outline of the obelisk is softened during this brief
point of time; a gentle air, (the breath of evening,) fans our