of the existing wells no one had the slightest knowledge.

The peculiarity of construction of these wells lies in their termination at their lower extremity, where they reach the body of the water stored up in the reservoir with which they communicate; each well there expanding into a conical shape, so that it precisely resembles an inverted funnel. Such a construction is perfectly useless if designed to increase the quantity of water to be drawn up through the well, and consequently it is everywhere unknown, except as we have said, in a well which communicated with a reservoir of water, at the ancient Etrurian city of Alba Longa, now Palazzuolo. The wells of Romulus, and the sides and bottom of the reservoir into which they open, still exhibit remains of the clay "puddling" with which they were made water-tight, the tufa in which they are cut being porous and unfit for the storing of water. The identity of the engineering ideas which prevailed both at Alba Longa and at Rome when its foundations were laid is thus clearly made out; and, so far, the tradition is made out which asserts that Romulus came of the family ruling at Alba Longa.

The arx, or citadel, which these wells were meant to supply with water, when its inhabitants were shut up by a beleaguering force, is the original fortified place where Romulus ruled, and which goes by the name of Roma Quadrata. So far the more moderate of the sceptical school will admit, though even this will be contested by those who believe that the old traditions are not worth the slightest consideration. But what is now made evident from the recent excavations as interpreted by one who possesses the trained archæological eye, and understands the true tests of age in buildings, is the great size and importance of the very earliest buildings of Rome. It is clear that Rome at once assumed the nature of a fortified city, and that its rulers were rapidly in a position to command a vast amount of enforced labor. The additions to the original buildings exhibit, moreover, marked changes in construction, and are of extent and character which precisely correspond to the traditionary stories of the succession of kings which ended with the second Tarquin. In actual size the Roma Quadrata was about 300 yards long and nearly 200 wide.

Its foundations are now at last open to

the eye, and in their masonry they correspond with that of some of the chief cities of Etruria. They are constructed of oblong blocks of tufa, four feet long and two feet high, roughly chipped, where not got out of the quarry by some simple process of splitting. The horizontal surfaces of the blocks were thus less rough, as they followed the natural stratification of the stone, than those at the ends. The walls of this date are thus distinguished by the width of the vertical joints, which are often so large as to allow a man to thrust his fist into them. No mortar was used to hold them

together.

The first work of Romulus was surrounded by walls of this kind, twelve feet thick, built up against the scarped cliff, which was cut away to make all entry impossible except by the gates. This work crowned the Palatine Hill, and its construction may now be seen in Mr. Parker's photographs. It is found nowhere else in Rome. Here, in the Roma Quadrata, its remains are still to be seen on three sides of the original parallelogram, in the foundations of the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, which tradition said was begun shortly after the founding of the city, and in some steps close at hand. It is not a little remarkable, also, that the size of each of the stones corresponds to the statement of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who says that each of them was sufficient to constitute a cart-load. Each stone, as now existing in this earliest work, is of just that size which, in the tufa of which they consist, is to this day called by the Roman masons a cart-load. Until the recent excavations, the space covered by this arx could only have been guessed at even by those who believed in its reality; but now the whole of the deep foss which was cut on the south-west side of the fort, when it was first built, has been laid open. It separated the fortified part of the Palatine from the unfortified part, where the population congregated in ordinary times.

On the opposite side of the arx, facing the hill of Saturn, which the Sabines, according to the tradition, occupied in their final conflict with the Romans, another feature now exposed to view has been pointed out by Mr. Parker, and is singularly suggestive when taken in connection with some experiments made by M. Viollet le Duc, the most distinguished of French architects, for the late Emperor Napoleon, at Pierrefonds. He had a catapult made

to try how far it was possible to throw a paving-stone sufficiently large to be service able in war; and he found that when thrown from the Saturnian hill, it would throw just far enough to knock down a Roman standing upon the spot where the first fortification was raised. Obviously, therefore, on the occupation of the hill by the Sabines, it was necessary to heighten the wall of the fort on the side facing the Sabine camp, which involved the construction of a series of towers to serve as buttresses to hold it up. The remains of such a series are now discovered, with the proof that they were never finished, for the spaces between their sides are filled up with concrete of the time of the Republic. Why were they left thus incomplete? Clearly because there was no longer any necessity for protection against the attacks of the Saturnian hill, the treaty between the Sabines and the Romans ensuring future peace.

As soon as peace was thus ensured, it was natural that a new wall should be made, to enclose the district occupied by the Sabines, and to extend to the banks of the Tiber at its two extremities. It was necessary thus to keep open a communication with the Tiber as the highway for provisions and the like, and to include the Velian hill, to protect the principal gate. The remains of such a wall are now visible in several places, and they exhibit a form of construction in which no practical mason will hesitate for a moment in recognising an advance in the art of building. This advance may be due only to the greater leisure which the builders had at command, or to an increased skill in the quarrying of the stones, which are here found larger in size than in the primitive opus quadratum, as it is called. Its outer surfaces certainly exhibit clear traces of the use of the saw. They are, in fact, identical with what is now termed ashlar work. Apparently no mortar was used for holding them together. A similar masonry is found in the lowest chamber or chambers of the Mamertine Prison, which the accepted traditions called the "Prison of the Kings," and assigned in its earlier portion to Ancus Martius, the addition to it being the work of Servius Tullius. It should be added that this second wall, enclosing botn the Saturnian and the Palatine hills, was plainly twelve feet thick and fifty feet high. This same masonry is also seen in the lowest portion of the great building called the Capitolium,

commenced naturally as soon as the rapid progress of the young city was ensured. It was to contain all the offices necessary for the government of the city, including an Erarium on the lowest level, for its money, and a Tabularium above, for its documents. The masonry is the same in both, though part of the Ærarium has been faced with small square stones, probably by Theodoric, who repaired many of the public buildings of the city.

Next came the vast work with which Servius Tullius is credited, and which is called his agger. It includes all the seven hills of Rome, and there is no novelty in our knowledge of its site. But its immense breadth and height were until lately matters of conjecture, while the chief peculiarity of its mode of construction was altogether unknown, except that it consisted of two parallel walls, enclosing a gigantic mound of earth where it stood by itself, or of one wall facing the scarped cliff where any portion of a hill was cut away, leaving the remaining cliff to be sustained by the wall. When the railway station was made in 1871, this agger was cut across, and wroughtiron clamps were found, binding together the separate stones of the masonry. The discovery at once explained the meaning of various holes in old Roman masonry, which had hitherto puzzled all antiquarians

the iron having everywhere dropped out, through the action of rust, while the clamps of course had disappeared. Here, on the contrary, being within the body of the wall, they were retained in their original positions, and the action of the rust itself had been less destructive. About a dozen, or so, were then found, and were immediately secured by Mr. Parker and other archeologists.

Such are some of the most important facts which have been gathered from the sites unveiled by the labors of English, French, and German excavators. It is not too much to say that they must materially modify the opinions which have come to be popular among modern historians, not only as to the origin of Rome, but as to the possibility of future discoveries in the other great historical sites of the world, which will help the future historian to establish the reality of a considerable element of real fact, where at present he discovers nothing but the cloudland of superstition and worthless legend. Of course they prove nothing absolutely as to the date of

avenue, sat down on a bench, and lost himself in thought. The handle of a parasol came down rather heavily on his shoulder. He started. In front of him, in a light gray-green barège dress and a white net bonnet, in Swedish gloves, and looking as fresh and as rosy as a summer's morn, but with a languor and drowsy listlessness in every look and movement, stood Maria Nikolaeona.

"How do you do?" she said. "I sent for you this morning, and you were already gone. "I have just swallowed my second glass-you know, they force me to drink the waters here-God knows whyas if I am not healthy enough! And now I must walk a whole hour. Will you be my companion? We shall have a cup of

coffee after our walk."

"I have already had my coffee," said Sanin, arising," but I shall be very happy to walk with you."

66

Well, then, give me your arm. Do not fear; your lady-love is not here; she will not see you."

Sanin smiled in a constrained manner. Each time Maria Nikolaeona mentioned Gemma's name, an unpleasant feeling came over him. But he bowed in compliance, and Maria Nikolaeona, slipping her hand through his arm, leaned gently and clingingly on him.

"Come-this way," she said to him, throwing back her open parasol over her shoulder. "I am quite at home in this park; I shall take you to the prettiest part of it. And do you know what, (she constantly used this expression,) we shall talk no more of this purchase? We shall leave that until after breakfast. You must tell me now about yourself, so that I may know with whom I have to deal. And after that, if you wish, I shall relate you something about myself. Do you consent ?" "But, Maria Nikolaeona, what interest can there be for you—”

"Stay, stay. You misunderstand me. I do not wish to flirt with you." Maria Nikolaeona shrugged her shoulders. "He has a love as beautiful as an antique statue -and am I to flirt with him? But you have the merchandise, and I am the merchant. For that reason, I must know what your merchandise is like. Well, then, show it to me. I not only wish to know what I buy, but also of whom I buy. This was my father's method. Well, begin then. Not from your infancy; tell

"And I do not in the least care for it. I only like Russian songs—and then I only care to hear them in the villages, in the spring-time, with dancing. Peasants dressed in their scarlet shirts, the young grass springing up in the meadows, and a sweet fragrance and freshness pervading the air delightful! But enough of that. Tell

me, then, about yourself."

Maria Nikolaeona kept constantly casting furtive glances at Sanin. She was a tall woman, and her face was almost on a level with his.

He then began relating-at first unwillingly and awkwardly, but by degrees he got more expansive, and rattled on, thoroughly at his ease. Maria Nikolaeona listened to him with rapt attention; she appeared so frank and confiding that she involuntarily elicited the confidence of others. She possessed that dangerous gift of familiarity-"le terrible don de la familiarité," spoken of by Cardinal Retz. Sanin related his travels, his life in Petersburg, his youthful experiences. Had Maria Nikolaeona been a refined woman of the world, he would never have made these disclosures; but she called herself a good, easygoing creature, and an enemy to all cere

mony.

This was the character she gave Sanin of herself. And at the same time this "good, easy-going creature" walked by his side with a cat-like step, leaning softly on him, and giving him sidelong glances; and he walked next this image of young womanhood, so fraught with that overpowering and languid, gentle and dangerous seduction, which has the power of enslaving us weak erring men-not men with pure blood in our veins, but of the crossbreed-Slavonic natures!

This walk and tetê-à-tête lasted more than an hour. They never stopped once, but went always on and on, along the end

less avenues of the park, ascending the high ground, and admiring the views, descending again, and hiding in the dark deep shadows, and the whole time arm in arm. At times Sanin even felt vexed with himself with Gemma, with his own dear Gemma, he had never walked so long and here had this woman taken entire possession of him! "Are you not tired ?" he asked more than once. "I never tire," she answered. Occasionally they came across people walking in the park; they almost all bowed to her, some respectfully, others with servility. To one of these, a very good-looking, fashionably-dressed, dark-haired man, she called out from a distance, in the very best Parisian accent, Comte, vous savez, il ne faut pas venir me voir, ni aujourd'hui ni demain." The young man took off his hat in silence, and made a low bow.

"Who is that ?" asked Sanin, from a habit of curiosity which is peculiarly Russian.

Maria Nikolaeona was right. When she and Sanin returned to the hotel, the “lawful lord and master," or "dumpling," was already seated, with his inseparable fez on his head, before the breakfast-table. "I have been waiting for you," he exclaimed with a sour face, "and was going to take my coffee without you."

"Never mind, never mind," returned Maria Nikolaeona gayly. "You were angry? A little temper is good for your health; without it you would collapse entirely. I have brought our visitor with me. Ring quickly! Let us have some coffee, coffee, the best of coffee, in Dresden cups, on a snow-white cloth!"

She took off her bonnet and gloves, and clapped her hands.

Polozoff looked at her from beneath his eyebrows.

"Why have you been capering about this morning, Maria Nikolaeona ?" he said in an under tone.

"It is not your business, Ippolit Sidoritch! Ring the bell! Dimitri Paolovitch, take a seat, and take your second cup of coffee! Oh! how pleasant it is to give orders! There is no such pleasure in the world!"

"When you are obeyed," grumbled the husband.

"Exactly, when you are obeyed! That is why it gives me such pleasure, especially with you. Am I not right, my dumpling? But here comes our coffee."

On a big tray which the waiter brought in lay also a hand-bill. Maria Nikolaeona seized it instantly.

"A drama!" she exclaimed indignantly. "A German drama! But it is all the same: it is better than a German comedy. Take me a box à baignoire—or no-better get the Fremden Loge," she said, addressing the waiter. "Do you hear? You must be sure to get me the Fremden Loge!" "But if the Fremden Loge is already taken by His Excellency the City Governor ?" was the waiter's daring rejoinder.

"Give His Excellency ten thalers, but the box must be mine! Do you hear?" The waiter bowed respectfully. "Dimitri Paolovitch, you will come to the theatre with me? German acting is

a fearful bore, but you will come. Yes? Yes! How obliging you are! Will you go, my dumpling?"

"Just as you like," answered Polozoff, from out his cup.

"You know what: remain at home. You always sleep at the theatre, and you understand very little German. You had far better do this: write an answer to our steward-you recollect about our mill, . about the peasants grinding their corn in it.

Tell him that I disapprove of it, and will not allow it! There, you have an occupation for the whole evening.

66

Very well," answered Polozoff.

"Well, that is charmingly arranged. You are a good fellow. And now, gentlemen, since we have commenced talking about the steward, let us discuss the affair we have on hand. As soon as the waiter has cleared the table, you will tell us all about it, Dimitri Paolovitch . . . all about your estate, the price you will sell it at, how much money you want in advance-in one word, every thing!" ("At