The carriages soon came rolling down the hill, and we proceeded in company, absolutely silent and contemplative from an indescribable rush of sensations. The distance across the waste appeared to be nothing, and objects rose fast, on every side to heighten the feeling of awe. Here was a small temple, insignificant in size and material, but evidently Roman; there, another line of aqueducts; and yonder, a tomb worthy to be a palace. We passed beneath one line of aqueduct, and drew near the walls—the ancient unquestionable walls of Rome herself! How often had we stood with interest over the ruins of works that had belonged to the distant military stations of this great people! but here we were actually beneath the ramparts of the Eternal City, which may still stand another twenty centuries without material injury. We were fortunate in entering Rome, for the first time, from the south, this being out of all comparison the finest approach. The modern city occupying the old Campus Martius, he who comes from the north is at once received into the bosom of a town of our own days; but he who comes in at the southern gate has the advantage of passing first among the glorious remains of the city of the Cæsars. We entered Rome by the gate of St. John, and looked about us with reverential awe mingled with an intense curiosity. Little appeared at first besides a few churches, broken aqueducts and gardens. On the left was a deserted looking-palace, with a large church attached, the buildings of St. John in the Lateran. An Egyptian obelisk, of great antiquity, pointed to the skies. These edifices were vast and princely, but they stood almost alone. Farther in advance was a straggling sort of town, a mere suburb, and the line of houses often broken by waste spots. Presently the carriage came under the walls of a huge oval structure of a reddish stone, in which arches rose above arches to the height of an ordinary church tower, a mountain of edifice; and, though not expecting to see it, I recognised the Coliseum at a glance. Objects now crowded on us, such as the arches of Constantine and of Titus, ruined temples, the Forum, and then the town itself. My head became confused, and I sat stupid as a countryman who first visits town, perplexed with the whirl of sensations and the multiplicity of the objects. We drove to the Hôtel de Paris, entirely across the city, near the Porto del Popolo, and took lodgings. I ordered dinner; but, too impatient to restrain my curiosity, as there was still an hour of daylight, I called a _laquais de place_, and, holding little P—— by the hand, sallied forth. “Where will the signore go?” asked the laquais, as soon as we were in the street. “To St. Peter’s.”