stand the ruins of temples, columns, and triumphal arches that knew the Caesars, and the noonday of Roman splendor; and close by them, in unimpaired strength, is a drain of arched and heavy masonry that belonged to that older city which stood here before Romulus and Remus were born or Rome thought of.  The Appian Way is here yet, and looking much as it did, perhaps, when the triumphal processions of the Emperors moved over it in other days bringing fettered princes from the confines of the earth.  We can not see the long array of chariots and mail-clad men laden with the spoils of conquest, but we can imagine the pageant, after a fashion.  We look out upon many objects of interest from the dome of St. Peter’s; and last of all, almost at our feet, our eyes rest upon the building which was once the Inquisition.  How times changed, between the older ages and the new!  Some seventeen or eighteen centuries ago, the ignorant men of Rome were wont to put Christians in the arena of the Coliseum yonder, and turn the wild beasts in upon them for a show.  It was for a lesson as well.  It was to teach the people to abhor and fear the new doctrine the followers of Christ were teaching.  The beasts tore the victims limb from limb and made poor mangled corpses of them in the twinkling of an eye.  But when the Christians came into power, when the holy Mother Church became mistress of the barbarians, she taught them the error of their ways by no such means.  No, she put them in this pleasant Inquisition and pointed to the Blessed Redeemer, who was so gentle and so merciful toward all men, and they urged the barbarians to love him; and they did all they could to persuade them to love and honor him—­first by twisting their thumbs out of joint with a screw; then by nipping their flesh with pincers—­red-hot ones, because they are the most comfortable in cold weather; then by skinning them alive a little, and finally by roasting them in public.  They always convinced those barbarians.  The true religion, properly administered, as the good Mother Church used to administer it, is very, very soothing.  It is wonderfully persuasive, also.  There is a great difference between feeding parties to wild beasts and stirring up their finer feelings in an Inquisition.  One is the system of degraded barbarians, the other of enlightened, civilized people.  It is a great pity the playful Inquisition is no more.

I prefer not to describe St. Peter’s.  It has been done before.  The ashes of Peter, the disciple of the Saviour, repose in a crypt under the baldacchino.  We stood reverently in that place; so did we also in the Mamertine Prison, where he was confined, where he converted the soldiers, and where tradition says he caused a spring of water to flow in order that he might baptize them.  But when they showed us the print of Peter’s face in the hard stone of the prison wall and said he made that by falling up against it, we doubted.  And when, also, the monk at the church of San Sebastian