The obvious advantages of dwelling above the crammed and stifling valleys naturally brought the hills, in time, from the princely and fashionable Palatine, almost wholly in the hands of the powerful and wealthy classes. The Janiculum, as a suburban mount, was greatly lacking in the noble buildings and ancient traditions which clothed the urban seven. Neither was it fashionable, for it lay too far from the public places of the city, most frequented by society. Nevertheless, there were some who preferred its fresher and purer air, its nobler prospect and its greater seclusion, to the advantages and attractions of a more central residence. One of these was a wealthy man who had long retired from a busy, public life, to devote himself to the quiet pursuits of study, in a house he had built, and gardens he had laid out, on a commanding eminence of the hill. The name of Quintus Fabricius had once been celebrated in the city as that of a senator distinguished for uprightness, firmness, and liberality, but his public fame had almost passed away with a new generation. He was now, at the time we speak of, far better known throughout Rome in connection with a domestic matter, which will unfold itself in the following pages. He was of an old family; and if wealth, taste, and an easy conscience could make a man happy, surely he might be said to be truly so. We will follow him, for it is he, and his five slaves, who form the small party previously mentioned. They walked in three divisions. Two powerful slaves led the van, whose especial care was to clear a way for their master through the crowded, tortuous lanes. When their cry of ‘Place, place,’ was unheeded, they enforced a passage, after the usual custom, by a rough and ready use of their brawny arms and shoulders. The remaining three slaves walked in the rear, each bearing some trifling burden of personal attire or convenience belonging to their master. In the centre walked Fabricius himself.