During the three mornings that we spent in the church, it was interesting to me, though not edifying, to watch the ecclesiastical life which went on there; the crowd going and coming, talking, and staring as at a show, whilst, in the long side-aisles, priests were sitting in the confessionals and listening to confession, whilst their eyes wandered curiously amongst the passers-by. The life of the church resembled that of the square, and there appeared no sign of minds earnestly employed in devotion.
The day after the first miracle-day, that is to say, the 20th of September, the king and queen drove, with the whole royal family, in great state, to the Cathedral, to thank San Gennaro, in due form, for his favor. The carriages were magnificent, mounted with silver, and really very beautiful. The members of the royal family are unusually plain in person—all with large, pale countenances, without any marked feature. The king, notwithstanding his stoutness, is the best-looking of his race—except the Prince of Syracuse, who is now not here. The Crown-Prince has a long, gloomy countenance, particularly unpleasing. It is said, that he has been hitherto a great bigot; but it is hoped that a favorable change may be produced by his marriage, next winter, with a young Austrian princess, who is both handsome and gay. Poor child! Handsome, gay, and good was, also, the former Queen of Naples, who lived so short a time, and died—as it is asserted—in consequence of severe treatment. The queen who now sits by the side of King Ferdinand, seems also good and agreeable, but—the sun of Santa Lucia shines not for her! The two little princes are
