Returning at hazard through the streets, we came suddenly upon the
column of Trajan, standing in an excavated square below the level of the
city, amid a number of broken granite columns, which formed part of the
Forum dedicated to him by Rome, after the conquest of Dacia. The column
is one hundred and thirty-two feet high, entirely covered with
bas-reliefs representing his victories, winding about it in a spiral
line to the top. The number of figures is computed at two thousand five
hundred, and they were of such excellence that Raphael used many of them
for his models. They are now much defaced, and the column is surmounted
by a statue of some saint. The inscription on the pedestal has been
erased, and the name of Sixtus V. substituted. Nothing can exceed the
ridiculous vanity of the old popes in thus mutilating the finest
monuments of ancient art. You cannot look upon any relic of antiquity in
Rome, but your eyes are assailed by the words "PONTIFEX MAXIMUS," in
staring modern letters. Even the magnificent bronzes of the Pantheon
were stripped to make the baldachin under the dome of St. Peter's.

Finding our way back again, we took a fresh start, happily in the right
direction, and after walking some time, came out on the Tiber, at the
Bridge of St. Angelo. The river rolled below in his muddy glory, and in
front, on the opposite bank, stood "the pile which Hadrian retired on
high"--_now_, the Castle of St. Angelo. Knowing that St. Peter's was to
he seen from this bridge, I looked about in search of it. There was only
one dome in sight, large and of beautiful proportions. I said at once,
"surely _that_ cannot be St. Peter's!" On looking again, however, I saw
the top of a massive range of building near it, which corresponded so
nearly with the pictures of the Vatican, that I was unwillingly forced
to believe the mighty dome was really before me. I recognized it as one
of those we saw from the Capitol, but it appeared so much smaller when
viewed from a greater distance, that I was quite deceived. On
considering we were still three-fourths of a mile from it, and that we
could see its minutest parts distinctly, the illusion was explained.

Going directly down the _Borgo Vecchio_, towards it, it seemed a long
time before we arrived at the square of St. Peter's; when at length we
stood in front with the majestic colonnade sweeping around--the
fountains on each side sending up their showers of silvery spray--the
mighty obe