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
and through the chancel behind it. . . . .
March 23d.--On the 21st we all went to the Coliseum, and enjoyed
ourselves there in the bright, warm sun,--so bright and warm that we were
glad to get into the shadow of the walls and under the arches, though,
after all, there was the freshness of March in the breeze that stirred
now and then.
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