The Gesù is possessed of three organs, not very powerful or rich in combinations, but exquisitely sweet-toned and in perfect tune — at least, they were so sixteen years ago ; one in either wing, or arm of the cross in the shape of which the church is built; the third just above the main entrance opposite the high altar. On these charming instruments, for more than an hour before the Pontififs arrival at the church door, did three accomplished organists successively play voluntaries, movements from masses, and selections from familiar Italian operas. As soon as the final resolution of some glorious old fugue — the subject of which seemed to be struggling in the toils of counterpoint, like Laoeoön with the serpents — had died out amid the solemn thunder of the pedal pipes, a sweet melody from Lucia, L'Italiano in Algeria or Ernani would steal upon the ear from another quarter in all the plaintive tenderness of a mellow wooden flute-stop. And then, almost before this insinuating song had melted away into silence, its last lingering note would be drowned in the joyous chords of some sturdy old "Jubilate," square, simple, and just sufficiently aping the fugal form to interest the scientific musician, while delighting the not-scholastically trained ear. It was, indeed, a plenteous regale of sound, thoughtfully arranged and tastefully served.