the centre. The obelisk was, as the inscription indicated, a relic of
Egypt; the basin of the fountain was an immense bowl of Oriental granite,
into which poured a copious flood of water, discolored by the rain; the
statues were colossal,--two beautiful young men, each holding a fiery
steed. On the pedestal of one was the inscription, OPUS PHIDIAE; on the
other, OPUS PRAXITELIS. What a city is this, when one may stumble, by
mere chance,--at a street corner, as it were,--on the works of two such
sculptors! I do not know the authority on which these statues (Castor
and Pollux, I presume) are attributed to Phidias and Praxiteles; but they
impressed me as noble and godlike, and I feel inclined to take them for
what they purport to be. On one side of the piazza is the Pontifical
Palace; but, not being aware of this at the time, I did not look
particularly at the edifice.

I came home by way of the Corso, which seemed a little enlivened by
Carnival time; though, as it was not yet two o'clock, the fun had not
begun for the day. The rain throws a dreary damper on the festivities.


February 13th.--Day before yesterday we took J----- and R----- in a
carriage, and went to see the Carnival, by driving up and down the Corso.
It was as ugly a day, as respects weather, as has befallen us since we
came to Rome,--cloudy, with an indecisive wet, which finally settled into
a rain; and people say that such is generally the weather in Carnival
time. There is very little to be said about the spectacle. Sunshine
would have improved it, no doubt; but a person must have very broad
sunshine within himself to be joyous on such shallow provocation. The
street, at all events, would have looked rather brilliant under a sunny
sky, the balconies being hung with bright-colored draperies, which were
also flung out of some of the windows. . . . . Soon I had my first