A STROLL DOWN THE VIA LARGA. 233 



a procession of pale-faced, shaven Egyptian priests, 

 bearing a statue of Isis, and §ioging melancholy 

 hymns. A Greek philosopher would next pass along 

 with abstracted eyes and ragged cloak, followed by a 

 boy with a pile of books. Men from the East might 

 be seen with white turbans and flowing robes, or in 

 sheep-skin mantles, with high black caps ; and per- 

 haps, beside them, a tattooed Briton gaping at the 

 shops. Then would come a palanquin with curtains 

 half drawn, carried along at a swinging pace by sturdy 

 Cappadocian slaves, and within, the fashionable lady 

 with supercilious, half-closed eyes, holding a crystal 

 ball between her hands to keep them cool. Next, a 

 senator in white and purple robe, receiving, as he 

 walked along, the greetings and kisses of his friends 

 and clients, not always of the cleanest kind. So 

 crowded were the streets that carriages were not 

 allowed to pass through them in the day-time. The 

 only vehicles that appeared were the carts employed 

 in the public works ; and as they came rolling and 

 grinding along, bearing huge beams and blocks of 

 stone, the driver cracked his whip and pushed people 

 against the wall, and there was much squeezing and 

 confusion, during which pickpockets, elegantly dressed, 

 their hands covered with rings, were busy at their 

 work, pretending to assist the ladies in the crowd. 

 People -from the country passed towards the market, 

 their mules or asses laden with panniers in which purple 

 grapes and golden fruits were piled up in profusion, 

 and refreshed the eye, which was dazzled by the stony 

 glare. Hawkers went about offering matches in ex- 

 change for broken glass ; and the keepers of the cook- 

 shops called out in cheerful tones, " Smoking sausages !" 

 " Sweet boiled peas ! " " Honey wine, honey wine!" 



