The Cathedral is a perfect specimen of an Italian basilica, with double aisles on each side of the nave, and on each side of the transepts; ancient Roman and Greek columns supporting a richly decorated coffered roof in the nave, the aisles being vaulted. The general effect of great space with rich but harmonious decoration is most satisfactory. I had here an interesting experience of Italian preaching. Sermons are seldom part of a service, but are delivered without any preface, and always by trained men; as a rule only given at certain seasons of the year. On this occasion, the preacher ascended a pulpit placed against one of the pillars in the nave, several hundreds bringing their chairs to take up favourable positions for hearing, many standing. I managed to follow the general drift of the sermon, which was on the conflict of Faith and Science. The preacher used much gesture, now and then sitting down to refresh himself with a pinch of snuff, then up again, resuming his argument with much animation. He used his long slender hands with such effect that at times his fingers fairly flickered. Describing the limitations of human knowledge of the world and the universe, and dwelling on the dogmatic claim of science to account for it all, he asked: "And what are the sources of our knowledge?" Then, with a finger in each eye, he exclaimed, "Only these two tiny pinholes!" He finished with a touching account of a visit to the deathbed of a young man who had given up the Faith; his mother sitting by, mourning; "and which of you would like to see your nearest and dearest dying like that?" Then, rapidly descending the pulpit steps, and as rapidly re-ascending,—"Oh, I forgot to say, I shall preach again next Thursday."
