found the interior a plain cylinder of marble, about ten paces across,
and fitted up as a chapel, where the Virgin takes the place of Vesta.

In very close vicinity we came upon the Ponto Rotto, the old Pons Emilius
which was broken down long ago, and has recently been pieced out by
connecting a suspension bridge with the old piers. We crossed by this
bridge, paying a toll of a baioccho each, and stopped in the midst of the
river to look at the Temple of Vesta, which shows well, right on the
brink of the Tiber. We fancied, too, that we could discern, a little
farther down the river, the ruined and almost submerged piers of the
Sublician bridge, which Horatius Cocles defended. The Tiber here whirls
rapidly along, and Horatius must have had a perilous swim for his life,
and the enemy a fair mark at his head with their arrows. I think this is
the most picturesque part of the Tiber in its passage through Rome.

After crossing the bridge, we kept along the right bank of the river,
through the dirty and hard-hearted streets of Trastevere (which have in
no respect the advantage over those of hither Rome), till we reached St.
Peter's. We saw a family sitting before their door on the pavement in
the narrow and sunny street, engaged in their domestic avocations,--the
old woman spinning with a wheel. I suppose the people now begin to live
out of doors. We entered beneath the colonnade of St. Peter's and
immediately became sensible of an evil odor,--the bad odor of our fallen
nature, which there is no escaping in any nook of Rome. . . . .

Between the pillars of the colonnade, however, we had the pleasant
spectacle of the two fountains, sending up their lily-shaped gush, with
rainbows shining in their falling spray. Parties of French soldiers, as
usual, were undergoing their drill in the piazza. When we entered the
church, the long, dusty sunbeams were falling aslantwise through the dome