"Now is it allowable for us to go down there and make ourselves at home amongst those antique pillars, or have we got to take the show in from here ?" "No, Malt," said the Senator, helping the ladies out, "I can't say I agree with you.

It's a dead city, that's what it is, and for my part I've never seen anything so impressive." "Mr.Wick," remarked Miss Callis, "has not visited Philadelphia." "Well, for a municipal cemetery," returned Mr.Malt, "it's pretty uncared for.

If there was any enterprise in this capital it would be suitably railed in with posts and chains, and a monument inscribed 'Here lies Rome's former greatness' or something like that.

But the Italians haven't got a particle of go--I've noticed that all through." We went down the wooden stair, a century at a step, and presently walked and talked, we seven Americans, in that elder Rome that most people know so much better than the one with St.Peter's and the Corso, because of the clinging nature of those early impressions which we construe for ourselves with painful reference to lists of exceptions.

We all felt that it was a small place to have had so much to say to history, and were obliged to remind ourselves that we weren't looking at the whole of it.