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besides unwilling to yield to irritating importunacy-especially in the Churches, where it provoked me beyond measure to see them disturb People at their devotions.

I once saw a dirty Sibyl persecute by turns a whole string of kneeling Nuns, whispering their orisons, two and two, before an altar; till she drove them all away, and then turned round to me -you may be sure for a frowning reprimand.

Another time while I was sitting, in the dusk of the evening, at the foot of the Statue of St. Andrew, that occupies the hollow face of one of the Pillars that support the Dome of St. Peter's-contemplating with renewed astonishment

1

the

the unparalleled magnificence with which I was surrounded, two French Soldiers suddenly advanced from the Nave-cast their eyes into the air, and walking round to where I sat asked me in respectful tones "Est ce donc ici, Monsieur, la Coupole dont on parle tant?"* They were pursued by a ragged Slattern, as keen as a hawk, pestering them for charity, and though they assured her, with all the elegance and urbanity that pervades every rank in France (except the Peasants in their provincial Patois) that they had no money to give, she followed them with increasing importunity as far as I could see them.

Besides occasional Collectors at St. Peter's, one old Woman had a stationary

* Is this the Dome of which so much is said, sir?

abode

abode in a corner of the Tribune, where she levied a tax upon all that ventured to ascend it; and another, at a distance far beyond the sphere of her influence, got a living by holding up the curtain of a door, whenever she saw any body going out that was likely to reward the service.

At first I flouted them both-determined to enforce obedience to the law I had prescribed myself "Give nothing to such a worthless Crew." But it was not a law like those of the Medes and Persians, and on future visits I learned to put my hand in my pocket, with a good grace, and pay, without murmuring, the customary tribute, for the privilege of enjoying myself in peace and quiet.

Every

Every good Catholic seems to hold Beggars sacred, as the East Indians are said to venerate their crazy Santos.

I soon found that Nobody repelled their importunities but myself—Nay, that if they asked alms in the name of the Virgin "Per la Madonna Santissima," or any favourite Saint, such as St. Joseph (the betrothed Husband of the Virgin Mother whose merits are overlooked by us graceless Protestants) St. Francis de Sales, or St. Anthony of Padua, a good Catholic would lift one hand to his hat, though he should not put the other in his pocket.

I must certainly pass for an ArchHeretic, in the Streets of Rome, notwithstanding my devout attendance at

St.

St. Peter's: for I often refuse importunate Beggars, without minding what Saint they invoke-Yet my credit may be sometimes, locally, restored when a decrepid Old Woman kneels before the next Madonna, and prays for the Soul of the Stranger, that has put into her palsied hand a Paul or a Scudi.

Their usual resource of the Convents has been cut off, ever since the French Revolution, but they still hold every Devotee under a contribution, which they levy with inexorable strictness, on the day of his tutelar Saint; and you often see them running in Crowds from house to house, and demanding their money,

as confidently as if they were suing for a debt.

Perhaps

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