Roman Judaism has disappeared from our guide‐books. Civilisation has levelled down the walls of the Ghetto, and its former inhabitants are not any longer “a people that dwell alone.” But with this well‐deserved destruction a good deal of the interest was also destroyed which the traveller used to attach to “the peculiar people” enclosed in that terrible slum of Rome. Still, if there is anything eternal in the “eternal city,” which was neither reconstructed by the Cæsars, nor improved upon by the Popes, it is the little Jewish community at Rome. It has survived the former; it has suffered for many centuries under the latter, and, partaking in the general revival which has come upon the Italian nation, it may still be destined for a great future. Indeed, the history of the relation of Israel to Rome is so old that it is not lacking even in legendary elements. On the day on which King Solomon married the daughter of Pharaoh, the Rabbis narrate, there came down the angel Gabriel. He put a reed into the sea, which, by means of the slime that adhered to it, formed itself, in the course of time, into a large island, on which the city of Rome was built—an event with which the troubles of Israel began. These were the evil consequences of the first _mésalliance_. Even more unfortunate for Israel (and it is not impossible that this is the meaning of the legend) were the results of that spiritual mixed marriage between Judaism and paganism which took place at a much later period, whereat a blunt soldier, who sympathised with neither, and “who dealt in salvation as he dealt in provinces,” acted as best man. As a fact, the parties concerned never understood each other properly. The declaration of love, and the final proposal, were made in an Alexandrine jargon, strange to both, the obscurities of which only grew with the commentaries each successive generation added to them. Under such circumstances, a happy union was not to be expected, and the family quarrel which fills the annals of civilised Europe soon broke out. Judaism, more particularly Roman Judaism, witnessed this struggle from the beginning, and its fortunes were greatly dependent on the chance which of these two elements, the Jewish or the pagan, won the ascendency. However, I am theologising too much, whilst I am deviating from the subject of these lines. Nor could I think of giving here, even in outline, the history of the oldest Jewish community in Europe. This has been already admirably done by Dr. A. Berliner, who has made the history of the Jews of Rome the subject of his studies for nearly a quarter of a century. I intend only to reproduce here, in a stray fashion, some of those impressions and reflections which, I am certain, must occur to every Jewish traveller in Italy.