‘Do you see that pistol?’ said Rocjean to the shepherd, while he held up his revolver, ‘I have five loads in it yet.’  And then advancing straight toward him, with death in his eyes, he told him to throw down his gun, or he was a dead man....  Down fell the gun.  Rocjean picked it up.  ‘To-morrow,’ said he, ’inquire of the chief of police in Rome for this gun and for the ten scudi!’

They were never called for.

‘You see,’ said Caper, as, shortly after this little excitement, the one-horse vetturo, bearing Caesar and his fortunes, hove in sight, and they entered and returned to Rome; ’you see how charming it is to sketch on the Campagna.’

‘Very,’ replied Von Bluhmen; ’but, my dear Rocjean, how long were you in America?’

‘Twelve years.’

‘Main Gott! they were not wasted.’

BACCHUS IN ROME.

It is not at all astonishing that a god who was born to the tune of Jove’s thunderbolts, should have escaped scot-free from the thunders of the Vatican, and should prove at the present time one of the strongest opponents to the latter kind of fire-works.  We read, in the work of that learned Jesuit, Galtruchius, that—­

’Bacchus was usually painted with a mitre upon his head, an ornament proper to Women.  He never had other Priests but Satyrs and Women; because the latter had followed him in great Companies in his Journeys, crying, singing, and dancing continually.  Titus Livius relates a strange story of the Festivals of Bacchus in Rome.  Three times in a year, the Women of all qualities met in a Grove called Simila, and there acted all sorts of Villainies; those that appeared most reserved were sacrificed to Bacchus; and that the cries of the ravished Creatures might not be heard, they did howl, sing, and run up and down with lighted Torches.’

The May and October Festivals in Rome, at present, are substituted for the Bacchanalian orgies, and are, of course, not so objectionable, in many particulars, as the ancient ceremonies; still, no stranger in Rome, at these times, should neglect to attend them.  Caper entered Rome at night, during the October festival, and the carriage-loads of Roman women, waving torches and singing tipsily, forcibly reminded him that the Bacchante still lived, and only needed a very little encouragement to revive their ancient rites in full.

Sentimental travelers tell you that the Romans are a temperate people—­they have never seen the people.  They have never seen the delight that reigns in the heart of the plebs, when they learn that the vintage has been good, and that good wine will be sold in Rome for three or four cents la foglietta, (about a pint, American measure.) They have never visited the spacii di vini, the wine-shops; they have never heard of the murders committed when the wine was in and the wit out.  None of these things ever appear in the Giornale di Roma or in the Vero Amico del Popolo, the only newspapers published in Rome.