86 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



burden were to receive a benediction from the hand of a priest at 

 the door of St. Anthony's church. The sun shone brightly, and the 

 scene was truly exhilarating. Every horse, and mule, and ass, was 

 decked out in splendid colours, and in trappings corresponding with 

 the means of their owners, whose faces bespoke the joy of their 

 hearts, and whose orderly conduct, at once proclaimed the religious 

 feeling which had brought them to the place. When the animals 

 had received the benediction, they passed onwards with their mas- 

 ters, to make room for those behind them ; and this was the order 

 of the day, until the last blessing upon the last animal brought the 

 exhibition to a close. 



" As this scene of primeval piety was going on, an English gentle- 

 man, with whom I had a slight acquaintance, and who was standing 

 by my side, remarked that he was tired with looking at such a scene 

 of superstitious folly. ' If it be folly,' said I, in answer to his re- 

 mark, ' to give a blessing to an animal in one shape, it is certainly 

 folly to pronounce a benediction upon an animal under another. 

 And still we all do this in England, and in every other Christian 

 country. Where is the well-regulated family which, on sitting down 

 to a leg of boiled mutton and caper sauce, does not beg the blessing 

 of Almighty God upon it, through the mouth of the master of the 

 house, or by the ministry of a clergyman, if present ? " Benedicite, 

 omnia opera Domini, Domino ! " Who ever thinks of cutting up a 

 young roasting-pig, immersed in delicious gravy, and hot from the 

 kitchen, without asking a blessing on it ? " Bless us, O Lord, and 

 these thy gifts ! " ' 



" When the returning warmth of summer has filled the upper air 

 in the streets of Rome with multitudes of swifts and house-martins, 

 the idling boys manage to capture these useful visitors by a process 

 at once surprisingly simple and efficacious. They procure a silken 

 line of sufficient length to reach above the eaves of the houses. 

 To one end of this they attach a small curled feather or two, and 

 behind these is formed a running noose. This apparatus is taken 

 up into the air by the current of wind blowing through the street ; 

 and as the poor birds are on the look-out for materials wherewith 

 to line their nests, they strike at the floating feathers, and get their 

 necks into the fatal snare, and are taken to the bird-market at the 



