There was
a ball in a temporary structure, covered with an awning, in the Place
d'Horloge, and a showman has erected his tent and spread forth his great
painted canvases, announcing an anaconda and a sea-tiger to be seen.
J----- paid four sous for admittance, and found that the sea-tiger was
nothing but a large seal, and the anaconda altogether a myth.
I have rambled a good deal about the town. Its streets are crooked and
perplexing, and paved with round pebbles for the most part, which afford
more uncomfortable pedestrianism than the pavement of Rome itself. It is
an ancient-looking place, with some large old mansions, but few that are
individually impressive; though here and there one sees an antique
entrance, a corner tower, or other bit of antiquity, that throws a
venerable effect over the gray commonplace of past centuries. The town
is not overclean, and often there is a kennel of unhappy odor. There
appear to have been many more churches and devotional establishments
under the ancient dominion of the popes than have been kept intact in
subsequent ages; the tower and facade of a church, for instance, form the
front of a carpenter's shop, or some such plebeian place.
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