sun lights a fire in his attic, which warms up, for a few hours, the air and the streets of the city. One there sees a number of poor people belonging to the city, as well as country—people from the mountains round Rome—men in pointed hats and with goat-skin breeches, women in white head-dresses, red bodices and strings of pearls—sitting and lying, with their handsome little children, on the broad steps from the Piazza di Spagna, up to the terrace of Trinita di Monte. There they sit and lie, hour after hour, warming themselves in the sun, and eating chestnuts, apples, and dreadfully sour oranges, waiting, I believe, for the artists who find amongst them their models. But even, everywhere in Rome, wherever the sun shines warm, and a wall offers a shelter against the tramontana, you see people crowding together as round a comfortable fire. At the street-corners people stand round large chafing-dishes, and women and girls, whether walking or standing, are always holding their hands over the little clay pitchers with handles, called Marito, which contain live coals. The whole population of Rome is now employed in warming itself, and little winged insects dance about in the sun with the same design.
Spite of the cold, however, there is, every afternoon, from three o'clock till dusk, an unceasing procession of carriages, in a double row, with handsome horses and handsome, splendidly attired ladies, and mustachioed gentlemen; and on the outside the procession stands, head close to head, a legion of gentlemen, who simply stare on the passing equipages, and this standing far niente is the noble Roman pastime.
