Hence we walk to the beginning of the Strada Marmorata, the ancient Littus Marmorea, so called, as they say, because the marbles brought from various countries were usually landed here; a very disappointing reason for so fine a name. On the right is a pathway up the hill, and some fragments of antiquity are discernible, particularly a considerable portion of an ancient cornice, built up in a wall. If we continue this upper track, we pass by the churches of Sant Alessio and Santa Sabina, and descend on the Circus Maximus. The other keeps along the shore of the Tiber, and we may notice other substructions on the hill; and in the river, if the water be low, some traces of the Pons Sublicius. Returning towards the Corso, we may pass by a female colossal bust, which might almost do for a companion to Dr. Clarke’s Ceres, in the vestibule of the public library at Cambridge. It is supposed to be an Isis, but the Romans call it Madama Lucrezia. It stands in a little street which derives its name from the figure, and which opens into the Piazza di San Marco. I have not mentioned the church which gives name to this piazza, among the basilicas, but it however, deserves some notice. The front, of two stories, each of three arches, is neat and unaffected. It was erected in 1468 under Paul II., by Giuliano di Majano, together with the great palace adjoining. Internally, the nave is separated from the side-aisles by twenty columns coated with Sicilian jasper; these support arches, and at a considerable height above them runs a cornice. In the upper part is a range of semicircular-headed windows, and then a flat ceiling with square coffers. The worst part of this composition is in the space between the capitals of the columns, and the cornice, which is altogether ill managed. At the end is a semicircular tribune enriched with mosaics. The principal front of the Palazzo di Venezia is towards the Piazza. It has an air of solid massive grandeur and of defence, not ill-suited to each other, but there is no other merit. In this square is also the Palazzo Rinuccini, with five equal windows in front; a small, but much admired edifice. The management of the angles is bad; the finish at top is very bad; the consoles spaced unequally in order to receive the windows, have a bad effect; the doorway is bald, and poor; and all the details are bad; yet with all these faults, such is the efficacy of simplicity, joined to a just distribution of the principal parts, that I, with everybody else, acknowledge it to be a very fine building. Returning a few steps towards the church of the Jesuits, we find the Palazzo Altieri, an immense pile, once famous for its collection of paintings, but they are now dispersed. The front, towards the Via della Galla, is very good, or at least the masses are fine. That towards the Piazza del Gesù is crowded, and much inferior.