same size.

There is water in profusion--in the court, the kitchen, the boys'
wash-rooms, wherever it can be needed. In the entry from the principal
court is an odd fourteenth-century fountain which is a perfect
calendar. It is set against the wall, and is in twelve compartments,
answering to the twelve months of the year. In the frieze above are
carved roses, red stone on a white ground--in some compartments thirty,
in others thirty-one, answering to the days of the month. All the
fountains are made of the crimson-and-white stone of Asisi, which is
seen everywhere about the city--in vases for holy water, in pavements,
in garden-walls, in the foundations of houses. The stone, a red
sandstone, is found in plenty in the adjoining mountains, and has a
rich, soft crimson hue with irregular lines of white. But it is very
hard to work, and could scarcely be made to pay the expense of the
necessary machinery.

"For what I should have to pay for a bath of red marble, about one
hundred lire (twenty dollars)," said the Count B---- to me, "I could
buy a bath of Carrara."

"Baths of crimson marble and of Carrara!" I thought, and remembered
with an involuntary shudder my dear native zinc.

But to return to the Sacro Collegio. In one of the immense labyrinthine
cellars is a _botte_ for wine capable of containing five thousand
litri. There, it is said--I know not how truly--once a year, when the
botte was emptied, came four of the spiritual fathers of the college
above, with a table and chairs, and played a certain game of cards,
which was one of their simple amusements. Whether this meeting was