One great festa there is durino Lent at the tittle town of Grotta-Ferrata, about fourteen miles from Rome. It takes place on the 25th of March, and sometimes is very gay and picturesque, and always charming to one who has eyes to see and has shed some of his national prejudices. By eight o'clock in the morning open carriages begin to stream out of the Porta San Giovanni, and in about two hours may be seen the old castellated monastero, at whose foot the little villane of Grotta-Ferrata stands. As we advance trough noble elms and plane-trees, crowds of paesantsline the way, beggars screams from the banks, donkeys bray, carrette ratte along, until the last we arrive at a long meeadow which seems alive and crumbling with gaily drassed figure that are moving to and fro as thick as ants upon an ant-hill. Here are gathered paesants from all the country villages within ten miles, all in their festal costumes; along the lane wich skirts the meadow and leads throught the great gate of the old fortress, donkeys are crowded together, and keeping up a costant and outrageous concert; mountebanks, in harlequin suits, are making faces or haranguing from a platform, and invitino everybody into their penny-show. From inside their booths is heard the sound of the invariable pipes and drum, and from the lifted curtain now and then peers forth a comic face, and disappears with a sudden scream and wild gesticulation.
Meantime the closely-packed crowd moves slowly along in both directions, and on we go through the archway into the great countryard. Here, under the shadowof the monastero, booths and benches stand in rows, arrayed with the produce of the country villages, shoes, rude implements of husbandry, the corse woven fabrics of the countrypeople, hats with cockades and rosettes, feather brooms and brushes, and houseold things, with here and there the tawny pinchbeck ware of a pedlar of jewellery, and little framed pictures of the Madonna and saints. Extricating ourselves from the crowd, we ascend by a stone stairway to the walk around the parapets of the walls, and look down upon the scene. How gay it is! Around the fountain, which is spillino in the centre of the court, a constantly varying group is gathered, washing, drinking, and filling their flasks and vases. Near by a charlatan, mountedon a table, with a canvas behind him painted all over with odd cabalistic figures, is screaming in loud and volubile tones, the virtues of his medicine and unguents, and his skill in extrancting teeth. One need never have a pang in tooth, ear, head, or stomach, if one will but trust to his wonderful promises. In one little bottle he has the famous water which renews youth; in another the lotion which awakens love, or cures jealousy, orchanges the fright into the beauty. All the while he plays with his tame serpente, and chatters as if his tongue went of itself, while the crowd of paesants below gape at him, laugh with him, and buy from him.
