Another pagan feature in the Roman character is the extraordinary attachment of all Romans to their native city. The first question that is put to every stranger on his arrival is: “Do you like Rome?” and woe to the simple-minded foreigner who answers in the negative! The dark eyes of the incredulous Roman sparkle with indignation and astonishment, which gradually give place to a pitying contempt for the ignorant simpleton! In vain the latter tries to atone for his mistake by remarking that he does not dislike Venice or Florence. This does not touch or interest the Romans at all. In spite of a superficial union, Italy consists, as much as ever, of a number of separate states. Admiration of Venice or Naples can only offend a Roman. The stranger tries hard to explain that it is impossible to admire a town that is entirely lacking in harmony, and in which the modern buildings erected by the government nearly give one convulsions, such an eyesore is their dazzling whiteness on the background of the yellow, ancient city. He repeats in vain that being accustomed, at home, to broad, well-lighted avenues, he cannot but regard with disgust the narrow, dark alleys of the ancient quarters of Rome, while, being used to clear air and constantly watered streets, he is still more profoundly disgusted at the clouds of that particularly objectionable yellow dust that rise with every gust of wind blowing over Rome. The Roman listens gloomily to the stranger, but is not convinced. He is not consoled by the admission that his city is very original, and that every educated man ought to see it. He requires and expects love and admiration for his “Cara Roma,” the adored fair one, for whom he would willingly die. Irene envied the Romans this fervour and the love of home which forced all inhabitants, before temporarily leaving the city, to drink of the water of the famous Fontana Trevi, and throw a coin into the fountain—superstitiously assuring themselves by this means that they would safely return. No other nation in the world has invented such a poetic superstition as this. Being a pagan, it follows that the Roman is the most loving of fathers and the most dutiful of sons. As he knows nothing about Christianity or love and charity towards his neighbour in the broad sense, he laughs at such ideas as absurdities, and gives all the love of his heart to his own family. On public holidays, fathers are everywhere to be seen leading by the hand tiny children in their Sunday frocks, treating them to chocolate and cakes at the fashionable confectioners, and talking caressingly with them. Or else one meets young married couples, accompanied by nurses who, with airs of vast importance, carry on cushions three-weeks-old infants, concealed under clouds of lace. Babies are not hidden away in back rooms, as in other countries. From the moment of their birth, children have their rights and privileges, and, in the arms of their nurses, receive visitors!