On Thursday I heard mass in the choir of the cathedral, when all the government officials were present. The people of Lucca take great pleasure in music and sing in unison, but it is rare to hear a fine voice. There was a full choir for this mass, but it was not a great performance; a high altar, very lofty in construction, had been specially built of wood and cardboard, and covered with images, and large silver candlesticks and vessels, the last being arranged with a basin in the centre and four plates around it. The altar was decorated in this fashion from top to bottom, and made a fine and imposing spectacle. Whenever the bishop says mass (as he did on this occasion), at the _Gloria in excelsis_ he sets light to a bunch of tow suspended in a grating in the middle of the church, especially contrived for this purpose. In this district the weather was already very wet and cold. On Sunday the 18th of September took place the ceremony of the change of the gonfaloniers of the city, and I was a spectator of the same at the palace. Here they work on Sundays as much as on week days, and many shops are open. XIV SECOND VISIT TO ROME On Wednesday the 20th of September I left Lucca after dinner, having first packed two boxes of things for despatch to France. We traversed a level convenient highway, the country round being barren as the Landes of Gascony. We crossed a wide river by a bridge built by Duke Cosimo at a place where there are iron mills belonging to the Grand Duke, and good lodging, also three fish ponds, places divided off like enclosed pools and paved with bricks. In these they keep a vast number of eels, which we could easily discern, as there was very little water. We crossed the Arno at Fucecchio, and after a journey of twenty miles arrived at dusk at Scala. We left Scala at sunrise and travelled over a good level road through a country of low fertile hills, not unlike France, taking our way through Castel Fiorentino, a small walled town, and then passed by the foot of the hill on which is situated Certaldo, the birthplace of Boccaccio, and a handsome little town. After going eighteen miles we halted for dinner at Poggibousi, a small town, and arrived in time for supper at Siena, twelve miles farther on. I remarked that the cold at this season was sharper in Italy than in France. The piazza of Siena is the finest of any city in the world. Mass is said therein at an altar in the open space, over which look all the houses and shops, wherefore the craftsmen and all the people can participate without quitting their work. At the elevation a trumpet is sounded to let every one know.