howing
off a well-made leg, and daintily attired in the garb of a clerical
dandy. Their conversation turned upon every possible subject, and
sometimes upon _quibusdam aliis_, to such a degree that it was evident
my father was perpetually on thorns. I remember a certain prelate, whom
I will not name, and whose conduct was, I believe, sufficiently free and
easy, who at a dinner-party at a villa near Porta Pia related laughingly
some matrimonial anecdotes, which I at that time did not fully
understand. And I remember also my poor father's manifest distress, and
his strenuous endeavors to change the conversation and direct it into a
different channel.

The prelates and priests whom I used to meet in less orthodox companies
than those frequented by my father seemed to me still more free and
easy. Either in the present or in the past, in theory or in practice,
with more or less or even no concealment, they all alike were sailing or
had sailed on the sweet _fleuve du tendre_. For instance, I met one old
canon bound to a venerable dame by a tie of many years' standing. I also
met a young prelate with a pink-and-white complexion and eyes expressive
of anything but holiness; he was a desperate votary of the fair sex, and
swaggered about paying his homage right and left. Will it be believed,
this gay apostle actually told me, without circumlocution, that in the
monastery of Tor di Specchi there dwelt a young lady who was in love
with me? I, who of course desired no better, took the hint instantly,
and had her pointed out to me. Then began an interchange of silly
messages, of languishing looks, and a hundred absurdities of the same
kind; all cut short by the pair of post-horses which carried us out of
the Porta del Popolo....

The opinions of my father respecting the clergy and the Court of Rome
were certainly narrow and prejudiced; but with his good sense it was
impossible for him not to perceive what was manifest even to a blind
man. During our journey he kept insinuating (without appearing, however,
to attach much importance to it) that it was always advisable to speak
with proper respect of a country where we had been well received, even
if we had noticed a great many abuses and disorders. To a certain
extent, this counsel was well worthy of attention. He was doubtless much
grieved at the want of decency apparent in one section of that society,
or, to use a modern expression, at its absence of respectability; but he
consoled