y flies disturbed.
There was dust on everything around.

A bridge was immediately in front. It was adorned with statues in soft
stone, half-eaten away, but still gesticulating in corruption, after
the manner of the seventeenth century. Beneath the bridge there
tumbled and swelled and ran fast a great confusion of yellow water: it
was the Tiber. Far on the right were white barracks of huge and of
hideous appearance; over these the Dome of St Peter's rose and looked
like something newly built. It was of a delicate blue, but made a
metallic contrast against the sky.

Then (along a road perfectly straight and bounded by factories, mean
houses and distempered walls: a road littered with many scraps of
paper, bones, dirt, and refuse) I went on for several hundred yards,
having the old wall of Rome before me all this time, till I came right
under it at last; and with the hesitation that befits all great
actions I entered, putting the right foot first lest I should bring
further misfortune upon that capital of all our fortunes.

And so the journey ended.

It was the Gate of the Poplar--not of the People. (Ho, Pedant! Did you
think I missed you, hiding and lurking there?) Many churches were to
hand; I took the most immediate, which stood just within the wall and
was called Our Lady of the People--(not 'of the Poplar'. Another fall
for the learned! Professor, things go ill with you to-day!). Inside
were many fine pictures, not in the niminy-piminy manner, but strong,
full-coloured, and just.

To my chagrin, Mass was ending. I approached a priest and said to him:

_'Pater, quando vel a quella hora e la prossimma Missa?'_

_'Ad nonas,'_ said he.

_'Pol! Hercle!'_ (thought I), 'I have yet twenty minutes to wait!
Well, as a pilgrimage cannot be said to be over till the first Mass is
heard in Rome, I have twenty minutes to add to my book.'

So, passing an Egyptian obelisk which the great Augustus had nobly
dedicated to the Sun, I entered....

LECTOR. But do you intend to tell us nothing of Rome?

AUCTOR. Nothing, dear Lector.

LECTOR. Tell me at least one thing; did you see the Coliseum?

AUCTOR.... I entered a cafe at the right hand of a very long,
straight street, called for bread, coffee, and brandy, and
contemplating my books and worshipping my staff that had been friends
of mine so long, and friends like all true friends inanimate, I spent
the few minutes remaining to my happy, common, unshriven, exterior,
and n