‘Well, you will understand that, knowing all this writing as I do, the very words of it went through my mind as I stood leaning against a railing near the siding at the railway-station, and looking at that bit of the Agger inside it, and thinking of the ancient engineering works and of what Freeman says about this weakest corner of the city; weakest by nature, made specially strong by art. “Here, on the eastern side, where there was no river to embank, no cliff to scarp, ran the mighty Agger of Servius Tullius ... within the line of the Agger and defended by a vast hornwork stood the Colline Gate.... Here was the natural point of attack for every enemy.... Through the Colline Gate the revolted army came back to overthrow the tyranny of the Decemvirs. Over the Colline Gate, so the tale ran, Hannibal hurled his spear--a tale wild enough, but one which still shows at which point men looked for Hannibal to have entered Rome if he had entered it at all. And it was by the Colline Gate that Rome fought her last battle for her being against Italian enemies. It was there that Scilla saved her when the last Pontius came to root up the wood which sheltered the wolves that so long had ravaged Italy. On that day Rome fought, not for dominion, but for life; she had not to fight for life again till the Colline Gate and the Servian Agger had passed away, and till Rome had found that she needed new ramparts to shield her from new enemies.”’ ‘Ai--i,’ came like a long sigh from Signor Giuseppe’s lips; his eyes, his thoughts were far away. These words had roused again that passion for his country and for her freedom which had been so intense--he lived through his former struggles; he fought his battles o’er again.