d the sights and scenes of yesterday;
but, for the whole universe, I would not undergo such another day of
fatigue, anxiety, and feverish excitement.

In the morning about ten o'clock, we all went down to St. Peter's, to
hear high mass. The absence of the Pope (who is still extremely ill)
detracted from the interest and dignity of the ceremony: there was no
general benediction from the balcony of St. Peter's; and nothing
pleased me, except the general _coup d'oeil_; which in truth was
splendid. The theatrical dresses of the mitred priests, the countless
multitude congregated from every part of Christendom, in every variety
of national costume, the immensity and magnificence of the church, and
the glorious sunshine--all these enchanted the eye; but I could have
fancied myself in a theatre. I saw no devotion, and I felt none. The
whole appeared more like a triumphal pageant acted in honour of a
heathen deity, than an act of worship and thanksgiving to the Great
Father of all.

I observed an immense number of pilgrims, male and female, who had
come from various parts of Italy to visit the shrine of St. Peter on
this grand occasion. I longed to talk to a man who stood near me, with
a very singular and expressive countenance, whose cape and looped hat
were entirely covered with scallop shells and reliques, and his long
staff surmounted by a death's head.

I was restrained by a feeling which I now think rather ridiculous: I
feared, lest by conversing with him, I should diminish the effect his
romantic and picturesque figure had made on my imagination.

The exposition of the relics was from a balcony half way up the dome,
so high and distant that I could distinguish nothing but the
impression of our Saviour's face on the handkerchief of St. Veronica,
richly framed--at the sight whereof the whole multitude prostrated
themselves to the earth: the other relics I forget, but they were all
equally marvellous and equally credible.

We returned after a long fatiguing morning to an early dinner; and
then drove again to the Piazza of St. Peter's, to see the far-famed
illumination of the church. We had to wait a considerable time; but
the scene was so novel and beautiful, that I found ample amusement in
my own thoughts and observations. The twilight rapidly closed round
us: the long lines of statues along the roof and balustrades, faintly
defined against the evening sky, looked like spirits come down to
gaze; a prodigious crowd of