In St. Ignazio, or Olivazo, near a minor altar at one side, we find a painting representing the Virgin and the infant Jesus.  The sacristan persisted that this was a work of Raphael’s.  The colouring appeared to me not quite to resemble that of the great master, but I understand too little of these things to be able to judge on such a subject.  At any rate it is a fine piece.  A few steps below the church lies the oratory, which nearly equals it in size, and also contains a handsome painting over the altar.  “St. Augustine” also repays the trouble of a visit; it displays great wealth in marble, sculptures, frescoes, and arabesques.  “St. Joseph” is also rich in various kinds of marble.  Several of its large columns have been made from a single block.  A clear cold stream issues from this church.

I have still to notice the lovely public gardens, which I visited after dining with the consul-general, Herr Wallenburg.  I cannot omit this opportunity of gratefully mentioning the friendly sympathy and kindness I experienced on the part of this gentleman and his lady.  To return to the gardens,—­the most interesting to me was the botanical, where a number of rare trees and plants flourish famously in the open air.

The catacombs of the Augustine convent are most peculiar; they are situate immediately outside the town.  From the church, which offers nothing of remarkable interest, a broad flight of stairs leads downwards into long and lofty passages cut in the rock, and receiving light from above.  The skeletons of the dead line the walls, in little niches close beside each other; they are clothed in a kind of monkish robe, and each man’s hands are crossed on his chest, with a ticket bearing his name, age, and the date of his death depending therefrom.  A more horrible sight can scarcely be imagined than these dressed-up skeletons and death’s-heads.  Many have still hair on the scalp, and some even beard.  The niches in which they stand are surmounted by planks displaying skulls and bones, and the corridors are crowded with whole rows of coffins, their inmates waiting for a vacant place.  If the relations of one of the favoured skeletons neglect to supply a certain number of wax-tapers on All-Saints’ day, the poor man is banished from his position, and one of the candidates steps in and occupies his niche.

The corpses of women and girls are deposited in another compartment, and look as though they were lying in state in their glass coffins, dressed in handsome silks, with ornamental coifs on their heads, ruffs and lace collars round their necks, and silk shoes and stockings, which however soon burst, on their feet.  A wreath of flowers decks the brow of each girl, and beneath all this ornament the skull appears with its hollow eyes—­a parody upon life and death.

Whenever any one wishes to be immortalised in this way, his friends and relations must pay a certain sum for a place on the day of his burial, and afterwards bring wax-tapers every year.  The body is then laid in a chamber of lime, which remains for eight months hermetically closed, until the flesh has been entirely eaten away; then the bones are fastened together, dressed, and placed in a niche.