ssed by that world-famed symbol? It is true, the Senate is still
represented by a single Senator, nominated by the Pope, who drives in a
Lord Mayor's state coach on solemn occasions; and regularly, on the first
night of the opera season, sends round ices, as a present to the favoured
occupants of the second and third tiers of boxes at the "Apollo." This
gentleman, by all the laws of senatorial succession, is the undoubted
heir and representative of the old Roman Senate, who sat with their togas
wrapped around them, waiting for the Gaul to strike; but alas, the
"Populus Romanus" has left behind him neither heir nor descendant.

Yet surely, if anything of dead Rome be still left in the living city, it
should be found in the Roman people. In the _Mysteres du Peuple_ of
Eugene Sue, there is a story, that to the Proletarian people, the sons of
toil and labour, belong genealogies of their own, pedigrees of families,
who from remote times have lived and died among the ranks of industry.
These fabulous families, I have often thought, should have had their home
in the Eternal City. Amongst the peasants that you meet, praying in the
churches, or basking in the sun-light, or toiling in the deadly Campagna
plains, there must be some, who, if they knew it, descend in direct
lineage from the ancient "Plebs." It may be so, or rather it must be so;
but of the fact there is little outward evidence. You look in vain for
the characteristic features of the old Roman face, such as you behold
them when portrayed in ancient statues. The broad low brow, the
depressed skull, the protruding under-jaw, and the thin compressed lips,
are to be seen no longer. Indeed, though I make the remark with the fear
of the artist-world before my eyes, I should hardly say myself, that the
Romans of the present day were a very handsome race; and of their own
type they are certainly inferior both to Tuscans and Neapolitans. The
men are well formed and of good height, but not powerful in build or
make, and their features are rather marked than regular. As for the
women, when you have once perceived that hair may be black as coal and
yet coarse as string, that bright sparkling eyes may be utterly devoid of
expression, and that an olive complexion may be deepened by the absence
of washing, you grow somewhat sceptical as to the reality of their
vaunted beauty. All this, however, is a matter of personal taste, about
which it is useless to express a decided o