Two men and three women were seated in a circle; they were laughing and talking, and cutting and eating large slices of raw ham and bread, while they passed from one to another a three-gallon keg of wine, and drank out of the bung. As one of the hearty, laughing, jolly, brown-eyed girls lifted up the keg, Caper pulled out sketch-book and pencil to catch an outline sketch--of her head thrown back, her fine full throat and breast heaving as the red wine ran out of the barrel, and the half-closed, dreamy eyes, and pleasure in the face as the wine slowly trickled down her throat. One of the men noted the artist making a _ritratto_, and laughing heartily, cried out: 'Oh! but you'll have to pay us well for taking our portraits!' And the girl, slowly finishing her long draught, looked merrily round, shook her finger at the artist, laughed, and--the sketch was finished. Then Caper taking Roejean's roses, went laughingly up to the girl with brown eyes and fine throat, in Albano costume, and begged that she would take the poor flowers, and putting them next her heart, keep them where it is forever warm--'as the young man on your left knows very well!' he concluded. This speech was received amid loud applause and cheers, and thanks for the roses and an invitation to take a pull at the barrel. Caper waved them _Adio_, and as our trio turned Rome-ward from the fair, the last things he saw as he turned his head to take a farewell look, were the roses that the Italian girl had placed next her heart. THE TOMBOLA. The exceedingly interesting amusement known as the Tombola is nothing more than the game of Loto, or _Lótto_, 'Brobdignagified,' and played in the open air of the Papal States, in Rome on Sundays, and in the Campagna on certain saints' days, come they when they may. The English have made holiday from holy day, and call the Lord's day Sunday; while the Italians call Sunday Lord's day, or _Domenica_. Their way of keeping it holy, however, with tombolas, horse-races, and fire-works, strikes a heretic, to say the least, oddly. The Roman tombola should be seen in the Piazza Navona democratically; in the Villa Borghese, if not aristocratically at least middle classically, or bourgeois-istically. In the month of November, when the English drown themselves, and the Italians sit in the sun and smile, our friend Caper, one Sunday morning, putting his watch and purse where pick-pockets could not reach them, walked with two or three friends down to the Piazza Navona, stopping, as he went along, at the entrance of a small street leading into it, to purchase a tombola-ticket. The ticket-seller, seated behind a small table, a blank-book, and piles of blank tickets, charged eleven _baiocchi_ (cents) for a ticket, including one _baioccho_ for registering it. We give below a copy of Caper's ticket: No. 17 D'ORDINE, LETTERA C. CARTELLA DA RITENERSI DAL GIUOCATORE.