But out of the way!  Here comes, blocking up the narrow street, a contadino, a countryman from the Campagna.  His square wooden cart is drawn by a donkey about the size of, and resembling, save ears, a singed Newfoundland dog; his voice, strong for a vegetarian,—­for he sells onions and broccoli, celery and tomatoes, finocchio and mushrooms,—­is like tearing a firm rag:  how long can it last, subjected to such use?

It is in the game and meat market, near the Pantheon, that you can more fully become acquainted with the street cries of Rome; but the Piazza Navona excels even this.  Passing along there one morning, Caper heard such an extraordinary piece of vocalization, sounding like a Sioux war-whoop with its back broken, that he stopped to see what it was all about.  There stood a butcher who had exposed for sale seven small stuck pigs, all one litter; and if they had been his own children, and died heretics, he could not have howled over them in a more heart-rending manner.

About sunrise, and even before it,—­for the Romans are early risers,—­you will hear in spring-time a sharp ringing voice under your window, ‘Acqua chetosa!  Acqua, chetosa!’ an abridgment of acque accetosa, or water from the fountain of Accetosa, considered a good aperient, and which is drank before breakfast.  Also a voice crying out, ‘Acqua-vi-ta!’ or spirits, drank by the workmen and others at an expense of a baioccho or two the table-spoonful, for that is all the small glasses hold.  In the early morning, too, you hear the chattering jackdaws on the roofs; and then, more distinctly than later in the day, the clocks striking their odd way.  The Roman clocks ring from one to six strokes four times during the twenty-four hours, and not from one to twelve strokes, as with us.  Sunset is twenty-four o’clock, and is noted by six strokes; an hour after sunset is one o’clock, and is noted by one stroke; and so on until six hours after, when it begins striking one again.  As the quarter hours are also rung by the clocks, if you happen to be near one you will have a fine chance to get in a muddle trying to separate quarters from hours, and Roman time from your own.  Another noise comes from the game of morra.  Caper was looking out of his window one morning, pipe in mouth, when he saw two men suddenly face each other, one of them bringing his arm down very quickly, when the other yelled as if kicked, ‘Due!’ (two), and the first shouted at the top of his lungs, ‘Tre!’ (three).  Then they both went at it, pumping their hands up and down and spreading their fingers with a quickness which was astonishing, while all the time they kept screaming, ‘One!’ ‘Four!’ ‘Three!’ ‘Two!’ ‘Five!’ etc., etc.  ‘Ha!’ said Caper, ’this is something like; ’tis an arithmetical, mathematical, etcetrical school in the open air.  The dirtiest one is very quick; he will learn to count five in no time.  But I don’t see the necessity of saying “three” when the other brings down four fingers, or saying “five” when he shows two.  But I suppose it is all right; he hasn’t learned to give the right names yet.’  He learned later that they were gambling.