There was a fair in connection with this feast, the most notable part of which was dishes of all sorts set on tables or spread on the grass of the pleasant piazza of St. Peter’s, the Benedictine church, with no roof over but the sky.  The brown and yellow-green earthenware for kitchen use would have delighted any housekeeper.  We bought some tiny saucepans with covers, and capable of holding a small teacupful, for a cent each.  Italian housekeepers make great use of earthen saucepans and jars for cooking.  One scarcely ever sees tin—­iron almost never.  In rich houses copper is much used, but brown ware is seen everywhere.

The next notable festa, and the great feast of Asisi, is the Pardon, called variously the Pardon of Asisi, the Pardon of St. Francis and the Porziuncola.

In the old times, and particularly when this indulgence could be obtained only in Asisi, the concourse of people was so great that there were not roofs to cover them, and many slept in the open air.  But since the favor has been extended to other churches, as well as from other reasons, the number is greatly diminished, and consists chiefly of people in villeggiatura near by and of a few hundred Neapolitan peasants, who with undiminished fervor come to obtain the Pardon, and whose singular performance, called gran ruota (the great wheel), everybody goes to see.

The Catholic reader will know that this Pardon can be obtained only from vespers of the first to vespers of the second day of August, and that while in every other church communion is a necessary condition, it is sufficient to merely pass through the chapel of the Porziuncola, for which St. Francis obtained the indulgence from Pope Honorius.

There is a large fair in connection with this festa—­merchandise of all sorts in the piazza and corso, and a cattle-fair in the upper part of the town.  The long white road stretching from Asisi to Santa Maria degli Angeli in the plain was quite black with contadini coming up with their goods in the early dawn, and a sound of hoofs and of many feet told that the procession was passing the house.  There were carts full of produce, men leading white and dove-colored cattle, and women with large round baskets on their heads.  These baskets contained live fowl.  In one a large melancholy turkey meditated on his approaching fate:  in another, two of lighter disposition swung their long necks about and viewed the scene.  One of these baskets was as pretty as the blackbird pie of famous memory.  In it sat eight chickens of an age to make their debut on the platter, all settled into a fluffy, soft-gray cushion, out of which their little heads and necks and half-raised wings peeped and turned and fluttered in a manner that testified to the agitation of their spirits.  The woman carrying this basket would have made a pretty caryatid, chickens and all, so straight was she, so robust her shoulders and so full and regular the oval of her face.