m ever could
accustom himself to the Roman fashion of throwing one's self on the
ground, and sleeping with their faces to the earth. Von Bluhmen, a fiery
amateur of sketching, walked off to take a 'near view' of the aqueduct,
and the two artists were left to repose.

'I say, Caper, does it ever come into your head to people all this broad
Campagna with old Romans?' asked Rocjean.

'Yes, all the time. Do you know that when I am out here, and stumble
over the door-way of an old Roman tomb, or find one of those thousand
caves in the tufa rock, I often have a curious feeling that from out
that tomb or cave will stalk forth in broad daylight some old Roman
centurion or senator, in flowing robe.'

'Do you ever think,' asked Rocjean, 'of those seventy thousand poor
devils of Jews who helped build the Coliseum and the Arch of Titus? Do
you ever reflect over the millions of _slaves_ who worked for these same
poetical, flowing-robed, old senators and centurions? _Ma foi_! for a
Republic, you men of the United States have a finished education for any
thing but republicans. The great world-long struggle of a few to crush
and destroy the many, you learn profoundly; you know in all its
glittering cruelty and horror the entire history, and you weave from it
no god-like moral. Nothing astonished me more, during my residence in
the United States, than this same lack of drawing from the experience of
ages the deduction that you were the only really blessed and happy
nation in the world. Your educated men know less of the history of their
own country, and feel less its sublime teachings, than any other race of
men in the world. The instruction your young men receive at school and
college, in what way does it prepare them to become men fit for a
republic?'

'You are preaching a sermon,' said Caper.

'I am reciting the text; the sermon will be preached by the god of
battles to the roar of cannons and the crack of rifles, and I hope
you'll profit by it after you hear it.'

'Well,' interrupted Caper, 'what do you think of the English?'

'For a practical people, they are the greatest fools on the earth.
Thoroughly convinced at heart that they have no _esprit_, they rush in
to show the world that they have a superabundance of it.... It
interferes with their principles, no matter; it touches their pockets,
behold it is gone, and the cold, flat, dead reality stares you in the
face.'

'You are a Frenchman, Rocjean, and you do them injust