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THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.

The spectacle presented by the devout persons who
come to worship in this vast temple has been well painted
by a lively and popular writer. “ A group of peasants,
in grotesque and highly picturesque costumes, were
flocking round the bronze statue of St. Peter, to give it
the pious salutation they had wandered from their dis-
tant mountain homes to bestow. * * * Round the
confessionals female penitents, clothed in black, and
deeply veiled, were kneeling, whispering through the
grate into the ear of their ghostly father that tale of
human guilt and misery no other mortal ear might hear.
Their faces were concealed, but their figure and attitude
seemed to express deep humiliation, grief, and compunc-
tion. The countenances of the confessors were various.
Some fat, lethargic, and indifferent,expressed, and seemed
capable of expressing nothing. Others seemed to wear
the air of attention, surprise, admonition, weariness, or
impatience; but in one only could I trace the tender-
ness of compassion, and of gentle yet impressive rebuke.
It was an old Dominican Monk, whose cowl, thrown back,
displayed a pallid cheek, deeply marked with the lines
of piety and resignation, and in whose, mild eye, shaded
by a few thin gray hairs, shone the habitual kindness of
Christian charity. Fie seemed, in the beautiful language
of scripture, ‘ A man of sorrows, and acquainted with
grief f humble and patient, yet tolerant of human frailty,
as they generally are, in the highest degree, who the least
need toleration from others. In striking contrast to this
venerable old monk was a cardinal, whose robe of state
was carried by his train-bearer, and whose steps were
followed by an immense retinue of servants. He was