In the _Mysteres du Peuple_ of Eugene Sue, there is a story, that to the Proletarian people, the sons of toil and labour, belong genealogies of their own, pedigrees of families, who from remote times have lived and died among the ranks of industry.
These fabulous families, I have often thought, should have had their home in the Eternal City.

Amongst the peasants that you meet, praying in the churches, or basking in the sun-light, or toiling in the deadly Campagna plains, there must be some, who, if they knew it, descend in direct lineage from the ancient "Plebs." It may be so, or rather it must be so; but of the fact there is little outward evidence.

You look in vain for the characteristic features of the old Roman face, such as you behold them when portrayed in ancient statues.

The broad low brow, the depressed skull, the protruding under-jaw, and the thin compressed lips, are to be seen no longer.

Indeed, though I make the remark with the fear of the artist-world before my eyes, I should hardly say myself, that the Romans of the present day were a very handsome race; and of their own type they are certainly inferior both to Tuscans and Neapolitans.