_senza mo_, are susceptible from
their tongues. The scene is the best burlesque on the life of the
"respectable" world that can be imagined. A ragamuffin with a little
piece of candle, not even lighted, thrusts it in your face with an air
of far greater superiority than he can wear who, dressed in gold and
velvet, erect in his carriage, holds aloft his light on a tall pole.
In vain his security; while he looks down on the crowd to taunt the
wretches _senza mo_, a weak female hand from a chamber window blots
out his pretensions by one flirt of an old handkerchief.

Many handsome women, otherwise dressed in white, wore the red liberty
cap, and the noble though somewhat coarse Roman outline beneath this
brilliant red, by the changeful glow of million lights, made a fine
effect. Men looked too vulgar in the liberty cap.

How I mourn that my little companion E. never saw these things, that
would have given him such store of enchanting reminiscences for all
his after years! I miss him always on such occasions; formerly it was
through him that I enjoyed them. He had the child's heart, had
the susceptible fancy, and, naturally, a fine discerning sense for
whatever is individual or peculiar.

I missed him much at the Fair of St. Eustachio. This, like the
Carnival, was last year entirely spoiled by constant rain. I never
saw it at all before. It comes in the first days, or rather nights, of
January. All the quarter of St. Eustachio is turned into one toy-shop;
the stalls are set out in the street and brightly lighted, up. These
are full of cheap toys,--prices varying from half a cent up to twenty
cents. The dolls, which are dressed as husband and wife, or sometimes
grouped in families, are the most grotesque rag-babies that can
be imagined. Among the toys are great quantities of whistles, tin
trumpets, and little tambourines; of these every man, woman, and
child has bought one, and is using it to make a noise. This extempore
concert begins about ten o'clock, and lasts till midnight; the
delight of the numerous children that form part of the orchestra, the
good-humored familiarity without the least touch of rudeness in the
crowd, the lively effect of the light upon the toys, and the jumping,
shouting figures that, exhibit them, make this the pleasantest
Saturnalia. Had you only been there, E., to guide me by the hand,
blowing the trumpet for both, and spying out a hundred queer things in
nooks that entirely escape me!

The Ro