e. This is covered by an awning and
colored draperies. In front, and fastened to the balustrade, is a glass
barrel, standing on thin brass legs and turned by a handle. Five or six
persons are in the balcony, making arrangements for the drawing. These
are the officials,--one of them being the government officer, and the
others persons taken at random, to supervise the proceedings. The chief
official first takes from the table beside him a slip of paper on which
a number is inscribed. He names it aloud, passes it to the next, who
verifies it and passes it on, until it has been subjected to the
examination of all. The last person then proclaims the number in a loud
voice to the populace below, folds it up, and drops it into the glass
barrel. This operation is repeated until every number from one to ninety
is passed, verified by all, proclaimed, folded, and dropped into the
barrel. The last number is rather sung than called, and with more
ceremony than all the rest. The crowd shout back from below. The bell
strikes noon. A blast of trumpets sounds from the balcony, and a boy
dressed in white robes advances from within, ascends the steps, and
stands high up before the people, facing the Piazza. The barrel is then
whirled rapidly round and round, so as to mix in inextricable confusion
all the tickets. This over, the boy lifts high his right hand, makes the
sign of the cross on his breast, then, waving his open hand in the air,
to show that nothing is concealed, plunges it into the barrel, and draws
out a number. This he hands to the official, who names it, and passes it
along the line of his companions. There is dead silence below, all
listening eagerly. Then, in a loud voice, the number is sung out by the
last official, "_Primo estratto, numero 14_," or whatever the number may
be. Then sound the trumpets again, and there is a rustle and buzz among
the crowd. All the five numbers are drawn with like ceremony, and all is
over. Within a surprisingly short space of time, these numbers are
exhibited in the long frames which are to be seen over the door of every
_Prenditoria di Lotti_ in Rome, and there they remain until the next
drawing takes place. The boy who does the drawing belongs to a college
of orphans, an admirable institution, at which children who have lost
both parents and are left helpless are lodged, cared for, and educated,
and the members of which are employed to perform this office in
rotation, receiving therefor a