lled lines and blocks. In
Rome there is no bondage of the street. And the many fountains with
water-spouting nymphs and Neptunes kill the drabness of business, and
freshen modern civilization so that it ceases to know itself as such.
When one compares Rome with Paris or Berlin or London or New York, the
newer capitals suffer. The mighty ruins have such authority over all
that is new. It is one of the greatest standing-grounds and points of
vantage in the world. It has been interpreted as the mountain of
temptation from which Satan showed the kingdom of _this_ world. It is
the birthplace of Caesardom and the modern idea of world-imperialism.
It was once the seat of world-empire, and remains even now the rock of
the Church. For many all roads still lead to the Cathedral of St.
Peter's as to the most representative temple in Christendom.
Spiritually, Rome abhors all sects and other centres of religious
persuasion. Spiritually, she claims to be the coincident centre of two
worlds, this and the world to come.

How fine is the interior of St. Peter's, built to defy time, with its
massive marbles and gigantic figures as fresh and new as if, indeed, a
few hundred years were but as yesterday in God's sight. The exterior
of the cathedral is transitory-looking, like an aspect of "this world."
But inside is part of the eternal silence such as one might experience
in a profound subterranean chamber. There is no aspiration, no
adoration--but there is a sense of eternal law. The Church is imposed
on earth. About the dome is written, "Thou art Peter, and upon this
Rock I will build my Church," in letters of gold--Rome's ultimate
authority. All is square and solid and heavy. There are no seats, but
the extensive floor is of varying granites and marbles, on which those
who believe kneel, and look so small, smaller than life-size in the
presence of the thrice-magnified statues of the Popes. So much for one
Mother-Church of the world. It is well cared for in 1921. The other
Mother-Church of Sancta Sophia in Constantinople still languishes under
the Pagan.

Rome swarms with all peoples. Its base is Italian, but it attracts the
people of all nations--Englishmen, Americans, Frenchmen, Russians, are
very common. The Anglo-Saxon party, guide-book in hand, is still
staring at the ruins of ancient Rome. The war has intervened, but it
looks as if the tourist, engrossed in his "Baedeker" had been doing the
same every day all t