At half past four, according to appointment, I arrived at her lodgings,
and had not long to wait before her little one-horse carriage drove up to
the door, and we set out, rumbling along the Via Scrofa, and through the
densest part of the city, past the theatre of Marcellus, and thence along
beneath the Palatine Hill, and by the Baths of Caracalla, through the
gate of San Sebastiano. After emerging from the gate, we soon came to
the little Church of "Domine, quo vadis?" Standing on the spot where St.
Peter is said to have seen a vision of our Saviour bearing his cross,
Mrs. Jameson proposed to alight; and, going in, we saw a cast from
Michael Angelo's statue of the Saviour; and not far from the threshold of
the church, yet perhaps in the centre of the edifice, which is extremely
small, a circular stone is placed, a little raised above the pavement,
and surrounded by a low wooden railing. Pointing to this stone, Mrs.
Jameson showed me the prints of two feet side by side, impressed into its
surface, as if a person had stopped short while pursuing his way to Rome.
These, she informed me, were supposed to be the miraculous prints of the
Saviour's feet; but on looking into Murray, I am mortified to find that
they are merely facsimiles of the original impressions, which are
treasured up among the relics of the neighboring Basilica of San
Sebastiano. The marks of sculpture seemed to me, indeed, very evident in
these prints, nor did they indicate such beautiful feet as should have
belonged to the hearer of the best of glad tidings.

Hence we drove on a little way farther, and came to the Basilica of San
Sebastiano, where also we alighted, and, leaning on my arm, Mrs. Jameson
went in. It is a stately and noble interior, with a spacious
unencumbered nave, and a flat ceiling frescoed and gilded. In a chapel
at the left of the entrance is the tomb of St. Sebastian,--a sarcophagus
containing his remains, raised on high before the altar, and beneath it a