visit to Amalfi, and consequently were enabled not only to
witness a picturesque scene of considerable splendour, but also to observe
how strong a devotion the Amalfitani still manifest towards their own
especial Saint. With the first flush of early dawn, discharges of mortars
from the beach and the neighbouring hills began to arouse the echoes and
to remind the still slumbering population that once more the great
anniversary had arrived. The world was quickly astir to do honour to the
great St Andrew, and from a very early hour an interminable stream of
peasants and villagers, young and old, male and female, began to enter the
town from all quarters, and to congregate in the piazza where stands the
large fountain crowned by the Saint's own effigy. Here with exemplary
patience the throng waited until the hour of the ceremony in the Cathedral
drew nigh. Within the huge building priests and lay-helpers were actively
employed in preparing for the event, and by their exertions the whole
interior had been transformed into what may be best described as a
magnificent ball-room, for every blank wall had been covered with
draperies of rich crimson damask and the very pillars had been swathed
from base to capital in the same gorgeous material. Innumerable old
cut-glass chandeliers, that had reposed since the last _festa di Sant'
Andrea_ in huge round boxes in some secluded vault, had been slung by
means of cords from the ceiling and the arches of the nave, whilst a large
number of mirrors set in carved gilt frames had been affixed to various
points of the walls and columns. The fine marble pavement lay thickly
strewn with bay and myrtle leaves, emitting a pleasant wholesome scent
when crushed under foot by the picturesque but somewhat malodorous crowd
of fisher-folk and peasants. On entering the church, at the first sound of
the bells booming over head, we found ourselves heavily pressed by the
surging throng of worshippers, and it was only with difficulty we could
obtain a sight of the ceremonies at the high altar, prominent upon which
stood the silver bust of the Apostle containing the precious relics. It
was a typical Italian _festa_. The chanting was harsh and discordant; the
antiquated inharmonious organ emitted unexpected squeals, as if in
positive pain; there was, it is needless to add, a complete absence of
that "churchy" demeanour which passes for reverence in the North; yet
withal, despite the shrill discordant music, the