A peasant-woman it may be is kneeling before the shrine, and a troop of priests pass by on the other side.

A string of carts again, drawn by bullocks, another shrine, and another troop of priests, and you are come to the river's banks.

The dull, muddy Tiber rolls beneath you, and in front, that shapeless mass of dingy, weather-stained, discoloured, plaster-covered, tile-roofed buildings, crowded and jammed together on either side the river, is Rome itself.

You are at the city's port, the "Ripetta" or quay of Rome.

In the stream there are a dozen vessels, something between barges and coasting smacks, the largest possibly of fifty tons' burden, which have brought marble from Carrara for the sculptors' studios.