at St. Peter's this morning?" said a friend to me as we were leaving the British Chapel. "Yes," I answered, "indirectly, I received much; for it taught me to realize the value of our own services as I never did before, and I trust therefore to use them for the rest of my life with greater benefit. It is the contrast between the Church in the days of Leo X and in the time of Constantine." CHAPTER V. We have devoted this morning to antiquities; and as strangers in winter all congregate about the Piazza di Spagna -which, by the way, is the site of the old Circus of Domitian -we were obliged to pass through the whole extent of the city to reach the Capitoline Hill, which was our first point. We went through the Corso, and by the old Venetian palace, and then threaded our way among the labyrinth of narrow filthy streets, until we found ourselves at the base of the Hill. On its top once stood the pride of Rome, the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, which was filled with the offerings of Princes and Kings, and the treasures of a conquered world. The whole earth was ransacked to add to its glory, and even the columns of Pentelic marble which adorned its front, were brought from the distant plains of the Ilissus, where Grecian genius had placed them to form the portico of one of its own beautiful temples. But it has passed away so completely, that its very site is a subject of antiquarian dispute. A magnificent flight of marble steps-broad enough for an army to mount with its ranks unbroken-leads up the Hill. At its base stand two basalt lions-old Egyptian monuments, brought from some ancient temple whose faith has long since perished, and bearing the impress of every thing which comes from that mysterious land. Colossal and frowning, with that strange unearthly expression of countenance which Egyptian sculptors seem always to give, conveying the idea of some |