Wednesday, February 17th.—I will now briefly relate the after progress of the Carnival. The Friday of the past week was held as a quiet day, and well it was so, for it rained incessantly. Two young Englishmen, in the story below us, amused themselves the whole day, by throwing down great shovelsful of chalk-comfits upon every umbrella, which came under their balcony. They blistered their hands very much with doing so; and really, what pleasure they could find in it I cannot tell.
Saturday was, at length, a fine, cloudless day, and every face in Rome seemed to clear up with it. The Via Condotti and San Carlo shone like a regular flower-market. Numbers of carriages were on the Corso, elegant costumes and elegant little bonbons; great politeness between gentlemen and ladies, but considerably less of life and fewer masks than on Thursday, when it was a general masquerade-day, and the people, as it were, were out of all bounds.
Sunday was also a glorious, sunshiny day. The Carnival rested itself; no masks were to be seen; but half of Rome drove in procession up to Monte Pincio, and circled round its green, peaceful grounds, where the fountains played, the roses shone out and diffused their fragrance. Jenny and I wandered along the banks of the Tiber, beyond the Porta del Popolo, one of the most agreeable promenades which I have yet discovered near Rome; for one can there be as solitary as in the country, walk down by the river, and along the other side amongst gardens, enjoying the while, as grand and extensive views as if there were no city near. This road is called “Poussin's Promenade,”
