On closer inspection, this priestly figure
proved to be likewise an image of earthenware, but his lifelikeness had a
very strange and rather ghastly effect. Adam, perhaps, was made of just
such red earth, and had the complexion of this figure.
September 7th.--I walked into town yesterday morning, by way of the Porta
San Frediano. The gate of a city might be a good locality for a chapter
in a novel, or for a little sketch by itself, whether by painter or
writer. The great arch of the gateway, piercing through the depth and
height of the massive masonry beneath the battlemented summit; the shadow
brooding below, in the immense thickness of the wall and beyond it, the
vista of the street, sunny and swarming with life; outside of the gate, a
throng of carts, laden with fruits, vegetables, small flat barrels of
wine, waiting to be examined by the custom-house officers; carriages too,
and foot-passengers entering, and others swarming outward. Under the
shadowy arch are the offices of the police and customs, and probably the
guard-room of the soldiers, all hollowed out in the mass of the gateway.
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