brick or stone as seem to shut in all the avenues to Rome. We had not
gone far before we heard military music in advance of us, and saw the
road blocked up with people, and then the glitter of muskets, and soon
appeared the drummers, fifers, and trumpeters, and then the first
battalion of a French regiment, marching into the city, with two mounted
officers at their head; then appeared a second and then a third
battalion, the whole seeming to make almost an army, though the number on
their caps showed them all to belong to one regiment,--the 1st; then came
a battery of artillery, then a detachment of horse,--these last, by the
crossed keys on their helmets, being apparently papal troops. All were
young, fresh, good-looking men, in excellent trim as to uniform and
equipments, and marched rather as if they were setting out on a campaign
than returning from it; the fact being, I believe, that they have been
encamped or in barracks within a few miles of the city. Nevertheless, it
reminded me of the military processions of various kinds which so often,
two thousand years ago and more, entered Rome over the Flaminian Way, and
over all the roads that led to the famous city,--triumphs oftenest, but
sometimes the downcast train of a defeated army, like those who retreated
before Hannibal. On the whole, I was not sorry to see the Gauls still
pouring into Rome; but yet I begin to find that I have a strange
affection for it, and so did we all,--the rest of the family in a greater
degree than myself even. It is very singular, the sad embrace with which
Rome takes possession of the soul. Though we intend to return in a few
months, and for a longer residence than this has been, yet we felt the
city pulling at our heartstrings far more than London did, where we shall
probably never spend much time again. It may be because the intellect
finds a home there more than in any other spot in the world, and wins the
heart to stay with it, in spite of a good many things strewn all about to
disgust us.