feel sure that the man uttered the sentiments of the great mass of the once proud and fierce "Populus Romanus," subdued but dissatisfied, and feeling that, like many other professed philanthropists, the Holy Father, who breathes forth seraphic strains of peace and blessing to all Christendom, is within his own domestic circle, dynastically if not personally, little better than a bully and a tyrant.

The obesity, which has since become troublesome, was in 1851 very visible in the person of the Pope, and his eye, in its general expression light, mild, and uncertain, in the momentary gleam of anger which lighted on me, told that on occasion Pio Nono could be " every inch a priest," and so illustrated the sarcasm attributed to his own brother Count Feretti, who, to some one lauding the openness, moderation, and liberality of his relative's early reign, said, "Wait a little! You may cut Feretti into small pieces, and you will find every other piece will be monk and Jesuit alternately." And I do believe these two epithets correctly symbolise the two leading characters of Feretti's mind-namely, first, the deep personal devotion, in which he gives you the idea that of all his court or cortége he himself is the man most in earnest in the functions in which he takes part; and next, the intense unity of purpose with which he exercises his supremacy, and acts with a view to its full restoration over the world. No man who had not at least convinced himself of his own power would have ventured to inaugurate the dogma of the "Immaculate Conception" as Pio Nono did on the 8th of December, 1854. Such an experiment on the convictions of the world argues at least the "good faith of fanaticism."

"The Lavanda" is over-the Pope is retired to 66 serve tables," hot, hustled, excited, exhausted, breakfastless (though the Apostles up-stairs were "at supper"), a friend and I dropped into one of the wretched caffès beyond the colonnade of St. Peter's, to drink a cup or two of that detestable "caffè nero," in which the creamless Italians, in cold blood, soak long pieces of bread, and eat "the sop" with a seeming relish. We sat surveying the groups as they returned from the ceremony; and while we did so, for the consistent conclusion of the whole, who should pass by in propriâ personâ but-Judas! There was no mistaking the old rogue-once seen, known for ever. He was now in his every-day attire, in the rusty habiliments of an old old-"rear-rank" priest -a class from whom the play "Apostles" are said to be selected. Judas, as I have said before, passed us by, going towards the Ponte di S. Angelo, and, though off the stage of his late performance, he might be said still to retain somewhat of the character, for "he had the bag!" In his hand he carried a huge black wallet, but what it contained I will not take upon me to decide; it might be his apostolic dress, or more probably his share of the remains of the apostolic supper of which he had just been partaking. I incline to think the latter, for assuredly the character which he looked and symbolised best, as he passed us by, was that of an old hired waiter, who, having doffed the livery in which he had figured at an entertainment, was going home in his ordinary attire, taking with him his share of the broken victuals!

Such were the associations in which I witnessed "The Lavanda" at Rome.

R.

THE SANCTUARY OF THE GOLDEN CALF.

ON the plaza of San Francisco, a mob of half-busy, half-idle beings was wandering back and forwards, engaged in chaffering, or else in sowing an unlimited quantity of "gape-seed." New arrivals, fresh from the vessels below, who, in silent surprise, or with loud exclamations of admiration, regarded all the miracles of the New World-of that El Dorado which they had pictured to themselves so different and who were not yet capable of forming a comprehensive idea of all that presented itself in such rapid succession; the weather-beaten, carelessly-attired forms of the returning gold-washers, who quietly lounged through the streets, with the little heavy-laden bags in their waistbelts-among them the Californian Spaniard, in his gaudy serape and heavy jingling spurs; the pig-tailed Chinaman, in his thin loose blue jacket, and with his neck that spurned every artificial bondage; the crowds of cleanly sailors from an American frigate in the bay, Frenchmen, Germans, Anglo-Saxons, Argentines, Spaniards, South-Sea Islanders, Negroes, and Mulattoes,-all swarmed upon the Plaza-gold the magnet which attracted every one, gold the object the masses were striving for, whatever their country or their complexion might be.

The first wild excitement which had driven them madly and blindly to the mountains for the sake of judging and digging for themselves was, however, now past; the majority had "seen the elephant," and had returned perfectly satisfied; they had not only found no gold up above, but had expended the little they took with them, and appeared to have eventually formed the conviction that there were other ways and means in California to " get their pile." These men then had rushed to the towns and become merchants or brokers, artisans or labourers, boatmen, roadmakers, policemen, cooks, wood-cutters, bakers, hotel-keepers, waiters, clerks in short, everything that could be conceived, in order to earn money as rapidly as possible, and then return home with it? No, but to go once again to the mines, for they "had not set about it right at first."

Only one class of men of all those who had flocked to the new El Dorado did not apply themselves to working or trading, buying or selling. With cards, possessing certain marks on their backs, expressly prepared in the United States, where whole manufactories are employed in this branch of trade, they came to California, and did nothing from the moment they landed, or even when they went aboard ship, save shuffle the cards, and count or weigh gold. These were and are the privileged gamblers, who hold their head-quarters in San Francisco, and thence diverge to the various mines in all directions-men who, with cheating as the first principle of their trade, came to California to earn money and grow rich, and who ever follow their career, even if murder and robbery might be called in to help them. Say nothing of our convicts, they are saints in comparison with these dregs of the American population, among whom, strange to say, wonderfully few English or Irish are to be found. The most corrupt of these gamblers, and the only ones, in fact, who can compete with the Spaniard, generally so crafty and cold-blooded in hazard playing, are

American "boys." From the splendidly decorated salon at San Francisco, with its picturesque bijouterie and hundreds of tables groaning beneath the burden of gold, to the scanty tent in the furthest mountains, where the serape thrown over a rickety box must serve as a cloth by night, and as a bed and blanket on the approach of dawn, they are everywhere to be found, ready at any moment to plunder the poor miner of his hardlyearned savings, and the Spanish cloak serves to cover the money they win, as well as the six-barrelled revolver and sharp bowie knife, as weapons of attack or defence, according as the moment or the prospect of gain may demand.

But now we have not to do with the mines-we are loitering on the Plaza of San Francisco, and the twilight has burst over the land, almost ere the sun has dipped into the sea behind the low coast range. But what an active life has suddenly commenced in the immense buildings between Kearney-street and the Plaza. The folding-doors are thrown widely open, and a sea of light, to which the mob pours in hurried succession, streams from the countless astral lamps. Right and left are similar buildings of brick, and with iron balconies and shutters, to defy the next fire which assails this block, as has been the case thrice already; from all a stream of light pours forth-from all is heard noisy musicinto all dense masses of human beings are thronging; and the difficulty for the spectator is, which he shall select for his visit. But the most splendid and largest is the one over whose entrance gleams in "golden letters" the name of EL DORADO; and though still undecided whether we will venture into the lion's den, when once the threshold is crossed curiosity impels us, and the next moment carries the stranger, actually intoxicated by all he sees, to the centre of the room, ere he is conscious of the fact.

An immense room, whose roof is supported by two rows of white polished pillars, stretches out before us, and on all sides are suspended astral lamps, rivalling the vivid brightness of day, while the walls are adorned with lascivious pictures, nude figures, bathing nymphs, and frantic bacchanals, adapted to inflame the mind, and calculated in addition to the music to seduce the passers-by to enter: once in, the goldladen tables must do their part to keep them. The mob that crowds in does not, in fact, at first notice the tables, which are scattered about the room, and are always far enough apart to let a quantity sit or stand round them, and yet afford space for passing; there is so much that is attractive, besides play, and the senses must first realise and digest that, before they can devote themselves to the gambling.

To the right of the room, behind a long counter, stands a girl, a really graceful, young, pretty, and respectable girl, in a black, closelyfitting silk dress, and her delicate fingers beladen with rings, who dispenses tea, coffee, and chocolate, while in the other corner of the room a man is stationed to sell wine and spirits. Over the tea-counter, however, lounge four or five tall clumsy fellows, gazing on the young girl; they swallow cup after cup of quarter-dollar tea, in order to have a decent excuse for remaining there, and ruin their digestion for the same reason with the sweet cakes and pastry they almost unconsciously devour. A knot of backwoodsmen is standing a few paces further back, obstinately blocking the road, and sharing the enjoyment, though at a cheaper

rate. They are generally athletic well-built men, dressed in homespun, who here gape in silent astonishment at all the novelties, for they come direct from the woods. Brought up in the far west of the United States, rumour led them to California, across the desolate steppes and rocky mountains; they reached the mines, and found in the woods, with the exception of gold, nought but what they had known from their youth up-trees and mountains, valleys and fountains, a bark roof to sleep under and game to shoot; and it was not till they had earned a trifle, or were grown tired of their laborious life in the mountains, that they came down to visit the celebrated capital. We cannot blame them for being lost in amazement here, for even the European, habituated to the life of large cities, and not expecting to find anything out of the way or extraordinary in this newer quarter of the globe, is still astounded at scenes which the wildest fancy would fail to do justice to.

But round this girl the whole of the visitors marched; even if seen once, they all returned again, and few quitted the room without leaving, at the least, a quarter-dollar for something edible or inedible, were it only to hear the few words which she must utter in informing them of the price of the beverage. And why was this? The girl was certainly pretty enough and graceful, but no extraordinary beauty, and in other towns we could meet three or four equally pretty in every street; butshe was after all a female, dressed with care and taste, such as they had seen at home-but never since. In all San Francisco there were at that time very few reputable women, and these rarely appeared in public; vessels brought but very few, and over the prairies hardly any ventured. It was a city of rough and savage men-men, nearly all armed with loaded weapons in their pockets, or in the belt beneath their hunting shirt, who had knocked about so many months in the woods with their fellow-men, and who now, after a long fatiguing march, after heavy toil in the mines, or perhaps contests with the embittered natives, saw for the first time again an agreeable female face, in a richly-decorated, brilliantly-lighted house, bending over the tea equipage. Was it surprising, then, if they stopped for a while to gaze their fill on her pleasant sparkling eyes, and then perchance went further with a sigh? They sighed not for the sake of the stranger girl, who stood so gaily attired behind the counter; but their own home, and all that they had left there, recurred to their minds, and to get rid of the feeling they turned to the pictures or the gambling tables. But the pictures were the best remedy against every melancholy feeling of that nature-the young girl in almost immediate proximity with such demi-obscenity destroyed the charm, and they turned away with a shake of the head to make room for others, while the young lady unconsciously poured out the tea for her new admirers.

But stay! what is that? The visitors are suddenly crowding round a table, where high play is apparently going on-let us go too, and see it. A young fellow is standing at the table, between the keeper of the table and his confederate, the first of whom is slowly shuffling a pack of cards, for the sake of employment, till the play commences, while the other watches, with his little piercing grey eyes, the cards as they are turned up. The game itself is strange to us, although the Spaniard on the other side of the table, who follows its vicissitudes and the hands of the dealer, with a scarcely perceptible smile, and without staking for the

present, seems to understand it better than we do. It is monte, a Spanish game, and played with Spanish cards, and the strange figures on them, the crossed swords and golden balls, the horsemen, instead of queens, &c., attract the stranger's eye above all, and impart a much higher and mysterious charm to the bags of silver and gold boldly staked upon them. The game itself bears some resemblance to our lansquenet; the right-hand card is for the banker, that to the left for the player; and, for the sake of convenience, two or more cards are turned up on either side. The young fellow, in whom we feel an interest from the outset, cannot be more than sixteen years of age; he is tall and thin, and his features would have something effeminate about them, were it not for the gleaming eye and the ashy firmly-compressed lips. His right hand is supported on the green cloth of the table, upon the centre of which piles of dollars form a barrier round a heap of gold, as well as sacks of gold-dust, and three or four largish nuggets and ingots, more for ornament than use; his left hand is in his pocket, and from beneath his hat two or three locks of auburn hair peep out. His stake, amounting perhaps to twenty or five-and-twenty "eagles," is on the horseman, and his gleaming eyes are fixed nervously on the hands of the dealer.

The latter, an American, sits coldly and calmly behind his table, with the card in his hand ready to turn up, and casting, at intervals, a rapid glance at the stakes to see that all is in order-the ace and queen are the uppermost cards-the young fellow has won, and a triumphant smile plays on his lips.

"I'll pay you back now for the other night, Robertson," he laughed, hoarsely, between his scarce opened lips.

"I hope so!" replies the banker, calmly, with an equivocal smile. "You're in luck, Lowell, and ought to take advantage of it."

"I leave it on the queen, and put this lot on the three." Here and there a few stakes are altered or withdrawn, the cards are turned up again -both lose.

The young man growls a fearful but hardly audible oath ; but his hand brings almost involuntarily fresh booty to light in the shape of a bag of gold-dust, which the banker does not even deign to glance at. The bag might contain about two pounds, and the Spaniard, standing opposite, now throws a couple of ounces on another card.

"You do not trust the gentleman's luck, señor," the banker said, smilingly, as he held the cards firmly in his left hand, but kept his eye firmly fixed inquiringly on that of the Californian.

"Quien sabe?" he muttered, with indifference; but his card has gained.

The young gambler uttered another fearful oath, and his hand sought frenziedly in his pockets for more money-but in vain. "Not therenot there-gone-robbed!" he stammers to himself; and his eye measures distrustfully and anxiously those standing round him. He meets only indifferent or sarcastic glances.

"Come, stranger! if you don't play any longer, make room for some one else!" said a bearded man, dressed in a dirty blue and torn blouse; "it seems to me you've done."

"I'll stop here as long as I like!"