the Enemy.

Festa-days, early in the autumn, are very numerous. All the shops
were shut up, twice within a week, for these holidays; and one
night, all the houses in the neighbourhood of a particular church
were illuminated, while the church itself was lighted, outside,
with torches; and a grove of blazing links was erected, in an open
space outside one of the city gates. This part of the ceremony is
prettier and more singular a little way in the country, where you
can trace the illuminated cottages all the way up a steep hill-
side; and where you pass festoons of tapers, wasting away in the
starlight night, before some lonely little house upon the road.

On these days, they always dress the church of the saint in whose
honour the festa is holden, very gaily. Gold-embroidered festoons
of different colours, hang from the arches; the altar furniture is
set forth; and sometimes, even the lofty pillars are swathed from
top to bottom in tight-fitting draperies. The cathedral is
dedicated to St. Lorenzo. On St. Lorenzo's day, we went into it,
just as the sun was setting. Although these decorations are
usually in very indifferent taste, the effect, just then, was very
superb indeed. For the whole building was dressed in red; and the
sinking sun, streaming in, through a great red curtain in the chief
doorway, made all the gorgeousness its own. When the sun went
down, and it gradually grew quite dark inside, except for a few
twinkling tapers on the principal altar, and some small dangling
silver lamps, it was very mysterious and effective. But, sitting
in any of the churches towards evening, is like a mild dose of
opium.