em at
that. But then what are they? Wretched daubs not worth house-room. Have
you any thoughts of purchasing paintings?'

Caper smiled gently.... 'I had not when I first came to Rome, but how
long I may continue to think so is doubtful. The temptations' (glancing
at the Borgia) 'are very great.' ...

'Rome,' ... interrupted the artist, ... 'is the cradle of art.'

A ROOM HUNT.

Caper, on his first arrival in Home, went to the Hotel Europe, in the
Piazza di Spagna. There for two weeks he lived like a _milordo_. He
formed many acquaintances among the resident colony of American artists,
and was received by them with much kindness. Some of the mercenary ones
of their number, having formed the opinion that he came there to buy
paintings, ignorant of his profession, were excessively polite;--but
their offers of services were declined. When Caper finally moved to
private lodgings in Babuino Street and opened a studio, hope for a
season bade these salesmen all farewell; they groaned, and owned that
they had tried but could not sell.

Among the acquaintances formed by Caper, was a French artist named
Rocjean. Born in France, he had passed eight or ten years in the United
States, learned to speak English very well, and was residing in Rome 'to
perfect himself as an artist.' He had, when Caper first met him, been
there two years. In all this time he had never entered the Vatican, and
having been told that Michael Angelo's Last Judgment was found to have a
flaw in it, he had been waiting for repairs before passing his opinion
thereon. On the other hand, he had studied the Roman _plebe_, the
people, with all his might. He knew how they slept, eat, drank, loved,
made their little economies, clothed themselves, and, above all, how
they blackguarded each other. When Caper mentioned to him that he wished
to leave his hotel, take a studio and private lodgings, then Rocjean
expanded from an old owl into a spread eagle. Hurriedly taking Caper by
the arm, he rushed him from one end of Rome to the other, up one
staircase and down another; until, at last, finding out that Rocjean
invariably presented him to fat, fair, jolly-looking landladies
(_padrone_), with the remark, 'Signora, the Signor is an Englishman and
very wealthy,' he began to believe that something was wrong. But Rocjean
assured him that it was not--that, as in Paris, it was Madame who
attended to renting rooms, so it was the _padrona_ in Rome, and that the
remark, 'he