out upon
it, all ancient Roman. Not a column has been removed or
mutilated. The fact is, Rome possesses several complete specimens
of places of heathen worship; this temple, the Pantheon, and San
Stefano Rotondo are perfect in the inside, the Pantheon within
and without, Vesta and Fortuna Virilis perfect on the outside.

[Page Head: A CAPUCHIN CHARNEL-HOUSE]

In the Rospigliosi Palace is the famous Aurora of Guido. It is in
excellent preservation, and three artists were copying it in
oils. One copy was just finished, and admirably done, for which
the painter asked forty louis. I begin to like frescoes better
than oils; there is such a life and brilliancy about them. At the
Quirinal, which was fitted up for the King of Rome and inhabited
by the Emperor of Austria, we saw everything but the Pope's
apartments. It is a delightful house, and commands a charming
view of Rome. The Pope always goes there the last day of the Holy
Week, and stays there all the summer. Nothing can be more
melancholy than his life as described by the _custode_; he gets
up very early, lives entirely alone and with the greatest
simplicity. In short, it shows what a strange thing ambition is,
which will sacrifice the substantial pleasures of life for the
miserable shadow of grandeur. Coming home we stopped by accident
at the Capuchins, and looked in to see Guido's St. Michael, with
which I was disappointed till I looked at it from a distance. We
then went to their catacombs, the most curious place I ever saw.
There are a series of chapels in the cloisters, or rather
compartments of one chapel, entirely fitted up with human bones
arranged symmetrically and with all sorts of devices. They are
laid out in niches, and each niche is occupied by the skeleton of
a friar in the robes of his order; a label is attached to it with
the name of the skeleton and the date of his death. Beneath are
mounds of earth, each tenanted by a dead friar with similar
labels. When a friar dies, the oldest buried friar, or rather his
skeleton, is taken up and promoted to a niche, and the newly
defunct takes possession of his grave; and so they go on in
succession. I was so struck by this strange sight that, when I
came home at night, I ventured on the following description of
it:--

_THE CATACOMBS IN THE CAPUCHIN CONVENT._

In yonder chapel's melancholy shade,
Through which no wandering rays of daylight peep,
In strange and awful cemetery laid,