"He is evidently a good Catholic, however," whispered one of the party.

"After all, I fear we cannot identify him with the ancient pagan who

haunts the catacombs."

"The doctors of the Propaganda may have converted him," said another;

"they have had fifteen hundred years to perform the task."

The company now deemed it time to continue their ramble. Emerging from

a side entrance of the Coliseum, they had on their left the Arch of

Constantine, and above it the shapeless ruins of the Palace of the

Caesars; portions of which have taken shape anew, in mediaeval convents

and modern villas. They turned their faces cityward, and, treading over

the broad flagstones of the old Roman pavement, passed through the

Arch of Titus. The moon shone brightly enough within it to show the

seven-branched Jewish candlestick, cut in the marble of the interior.

The original of that awful trophy lies buried, at this moment, in the

yellow mud of the Tiber; and, could its gold of Ophir again be brought

to light, it would be the most precious relic of past ages, in the

estimation of both Jew and Gentile.

Standing amid so much ancient dust, it is difficult to spare the reader

the commonplaces of enthusiasm, on which hundreds of tourists have

already insisted. Over this half-worn pavement, and beneath this Arch

of Titus, the Roman armies had trodden in their outward march, to fight

battles a world's width away. Returning victorious, with royal captives

and inestimable spoil, a Roman triumph, that most gorgeous pageant of

earthly pride, had streamed and flaunted in hundred-fold succession

over these same flagstones, and through this yet stalwart archway. It is

politic, however, to make few allusions to such a past; nor, if we would

create an interest in the characters of our story, is it wise to suggest

how Cicero's foot may have stepped on yonder stone, or how Horace was

wont to stroll near by, making his footsteps chime with the measure of

the ode that was ringing in his mind. The very ghosts of that massive

and stately epoch have so much density that the actual people of to-day

seem the thinner of the two, and stand more ghost-like by the arches

and columns, letting the rich sculpture be discerned through their

ill-compacted substance.

The party kept onward, often meeting pairs and groups of midnight

strollers like themselves. On such a moonlight night as this, Rome keeps

itself awake and stirring, and is full of song and pastime, the noise of

which mingles with your dreams, if you have gone betimes to bed. But it

is better to be abroad, and take our own share of the enjoyable time;

for the languor that weighs so heavily in the Roman atmosphere by day is

lightened beneath the moon and stars.

They had now reached the precincts of the Forum.




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