The decline and fall of Spain would be the fitting theme for another Gibbon, and the lesson it teaches might be studied with advantage in the new world, whose discovery had so much to do with enriching, and then destroying the kingdom. It is very hard to speculate or philosophize on the causes that led to the prostration of a great power like this, when the element of _religion_ is excluded from the study. Without the demoralizing influences of a political religion, there were causes enough to work the ruin of Spain, and foremost among these was the influx of wealth, that made every man greedy of a chance to get rich, at the expense of the State. It is useful to recur to it now, and in our own country, because the same causes are working mightily in the same direction, and producing the same deplorable effects. It was always so, but increased opportunities increase temptation and multiply the consequences. Men now seek and obtain office not for honor and the power of usefulness, but to get rich. Government in the hands of such men is an instrument of robbery, an engine of corruption, and it has in itself disease and death. The influx of gold from California has corrupted the American people in the same way, if not to the same degree that the Mexican gold and silver demoralized Spain. Antanazio proposed to drive out of town, along the banks of the river, to the ruins of an ancient city. A charming ride of an hour, in a delicious winter day, without the winter, brings us to the ruins of an amphitheatre built by Scipio Africanus, A. U. C. 546. Here, away in this end of the then known world, three men were born, each one of whom became a Roman emperor! The glory of nations was once over all the palaces, temples, and theatres that distinguish this spot. But now the ruins themselves are ruined. We can mark, or rather we can believe when we are pointed to, the places where the nobles sat to see the games of blood in the arena of the amphitheatre, the dungeons of the wild beasts are laid open, and the chambers where gladiators stripped for the fight, that gladdened the hearts of men and women two thousand years ago. Yet they were quite as rational and refined, quite as Christianable and decent, as the bull-fights of to-day. “Have you been to see a bull-fight?” was one of the first questions put to me by a delicate little lady-friend whom I met. “No; have you?” I answered and asked in the same breath. Her husband was sitting by; a splendid soldier-like looking man, six feet high, and well proportioned, who could take the bull by the horns when he pleased, and would do it were there any occasion. He did not wait for his pretty wife to answer my inquiry, but laughingly replied: “Yes, _she_ has, and I went with her, but could not stand it; the sight made me sick, and I had to leave in disgust; but she staid it out, and saw—how many killed was it, dear?” “Six bulls and five horses,” she said with a smile of supreme delight. “Killed!” I cried.