The people in these old lands seem to make churches their specialty.

Especially does this seem to be the case with the citizens of Genoa.

I think there is a church every three or four hundred yards all over town.

The streets are sprinkled from end to end with shovel-hatted, long-robed, well-fed priests, and the church bells by dozens are pealing all the day long, nearly.

Every now and then one comes across a friar of orders gray, with shaven head, long, coarse robe, rope girdle and beads, and with feet cased in sandals or entirely bare.