familiar with its middle and lower classes, will bear witness to the truth of these remarks, whatever other objections they may be inclined to find with modern Roman education. And, what is more, the enemies of God's Church know it also. They have found out that Rome's education of her children is one of the strongest of her outworks; and they think that if it could be once taken or destroyed by the corruption of the Roman youth, they need not fear much about the rest. To what a depth of corruption they would bring them if they could, may be seen in what they have already done in the Romagna and Southern Italy, where, with a policy worthy of the evil one, publications reeking with impurity and blasphemy, in which the foulest crimes are attributed to the clergy, and even to the Holy Father himself, are forced upon a boy's notice at almost every bookstall, or thrust into his hand at the corner of the street, or even at the very gates of the University and College.

There is one special characteristic of the inhabitants of Rome, which, springing as it does from the religion and education of her children, we cannot here forget to mention. We allude to that realization of God's presence and providence, and resignation to His holy will, which is so conspicuous in all ranks of the Roman people. We may remember how, a quarter of a century ago, the honest mind of Dr. Arnold was deeply affected by the touching appeals to God's presence which are to be found inscribed in so many places on the walls of Rome, and how he thought that a people thus mindful of God could not be dead in Christ. And this realization of their faith is apparent even on the surface of their conversations. If asked about their health, Ringraziamo Iddio is the answer alike of the noble as of the peasant. Se Dio vuole; Sia fatta la Sua Santissima Volontà! Such are the constant familiar expressions of every mouth. How often have we been charmed and edified by the simple, childlike confidence and grace with which the Roman "vignajuolo" lifts his hat from his head at the mention of the Holy Name, in speaking of the unknown future which is yet in the hands of God, or of some past visitation of His justice or mercy.

One day the abbot of Solesmes and a monk of S. Paul's (the story is M. Veuillot's)* went to visit the tomb of the Scipios, when they were overtaken by the rain. They took shelter in a shed, and recited their Breviary until the rain should be over. A poor old woman, who had also taken shelter in the same place, watched them respectfully while

*Vol. ii. p. 242.

they prayed; nor did she interrupt them until they had finished the last words of the Te Deum. Then, turning to them, she said: Signori, che bella parola: Domine in te speravi, non confundar in æternum! And after a salutation worthy of a noble lady, she placed her bundle on her head and went away.

As in Rome God seems to take the first place in the thoughts of men, so too the best of everything is given to God. All that the riches, and splendour, and beauty of the world can give-gold, and silver, and precious stones, sweetsmelling gums, and many-coloured flowers-all that is brightest and choicest, and most beautiful-all that in other cities men have taken from Him for their own uses, and even for their own sins-all these things are given back by Rome to their Creator, and are lavished on His shrines; whilst she adds to them, as her offerings, the noblest of the creations with which she herself, inspired by Him, has in her turn inspired the intellect, and taste, and imagination of her children. "By their fruits ye shall know them."

Another way in which Rome appears to the visitor as God's city is in its open, public recognition of the kingship of His Son. In Rome we see and feel that Christ is King, and that His royalty is recognized. In other capitals of the world it is the birth, or the coronation of the earthly king, or the festival of the constitution which is celebrated on national holidays with general rejoicing, and public ceremonies, and military reviews, and brilliant illuminations. Or, on the other hand, it is the death of the sovereign, or some national calamity, which is made the occasion of public mourning. But in Rome the King is Christ, and the Holy City keeps her public rejoicings for the Birthday and Resurrection, and her mourning for the Passion and Death of the Great King. Who that has spent the Holy Week in Rome, and has seen the soldiers pass through the streets with muffled drums and arms reversed during the Triduo of the Passion, or has witnessed on the evening of Easter Day the transformation of S. Peter's from the reality of its massive grandeur into the fairy-like proportions of a palace of light, while its vast dome seems to be suspended in the air like a tiara of fire surmounted by a cross of glory, or has watched how the whole city-piazza and street, the palace of the Roman prince and the lowly dwelling in Trastevere-bursts into a blaze of splendour, and has not felt that both her mourning and her rejoicing are nothing less than Rome's acts of faith in the Passion, and Death, and Resurrection of the Redeemer of the world?

Nowhere is Rome more loyal to the Son of God than in

her devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. Indeed, she may be said to be the city of the Blessed Sacrament, Its tabernacle and throne. In Rome Its worship is perpetual, unbroken even by a moment's pause; and so scrupulously is this provided for by her anxious love, that the deposition of the Sacred Host is not allowed to take place in one church until after it has been elevated in another. At the beginning of the Church's year, on Advent Sunday, the Lamb of God is lifted up on His Sacramental Throne by His own Vicar's hands, in the Cappella Paolina at the Vatican, and from thence the Blessed Presence passes from Basilica to Church, and from Church to Convent, until well nigh all Rome's holy places have been made holier by the visit of the All Holy. What a thought it is! He Who gave strength to Peter, and conversion to Paul, and purity to Agnes, and victory to all Rome's saints, comes now during that year of ceaseless worship, and rests for forty hours with unspeakable complacency on their glorious shrines! And not an hour of day or night but the poorest, and lowliest, and most forgotten of Rome's children can have audience of the King of Heaven in the city of His saints! Not a morning but the sun rises upon countless altars, upon which the Lamb of God is lying, as it were, slain, and at which God and man are being brought together in His Kiss of Peace; not an evening in which the sun sinks in glory beneath the western heaven, but the Sun of Justice, which never sets, casts His silent benediction upon kneeling crowds! And He who would have gathered Jerusalem's now scattered children, even as the hen doth her brood, gathers now at Rome the children of her who was once the "Great Harlot," under the shadow of His wings! Surely many are the children of the desolate, more than of her who hath a husband, saith the Lord. All thy children shall be taught of Him, and great shall be the peace of thy children. No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper, and every tongue that resisteth thee in judgment thou shalt condemn."

But this is not all. The mystical life of our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament is not only the life and light of men, it is also the worship of the Eternal Father. What would the world be, were there not here and there on the face of the round earth, which in the beginning God created very good, and which in the midst of time He redeemed with His own blood, amidst all the idolatries, and murders, and covetousness, and lusts of its inhabitants, some little spots of sinlessness, and purity, and peace, where the eye of the Everlasting Father can look upon the face of His Christ? Yet

where on earth amongst all His creatures, even among His own elected saints, can God look for perfect worship, save in the tabernacles of His altars, and on the thrones of the Blessed Sacrament? But at Rome Christ is ever on His throne, the "Lamb, standing, as it were, slain, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits of God, sent forth into all the earth," pleading with His five wounds for all the sons of men, and for the wants of His Vicar and His Church. It is the worship of heaven begun on earth, the vision of the isle of Patmos fulfilled in Rome!

And this was once Nero's Rome, which was "drunk with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus," and "the mother of the abominations of the earth." Now, indeed, we can understand why God has left, side by side with the Christian city, in such startling contrast, the ruins of the temples and palaces of old Rome, that men may know that He alone, the Lord, hath done it, and that where "sin has abounded, grace doth much more abound!"

Our picture of Rome's devotion to the Blessed Sacrament would be incomplete were we to pass over the way in which It is received whenever It is carried through the streets. Few indeed are the large cities (and they are growing fewer) in these days, in which the Son of God can come into the streets without danger of insult and desecration. Once a year at most, in these evil times, can His priests take Him in their arms, and carry Him in triumph through His people, that His shadow passing over them may heal them of their sins, and cool their passions, and give strength to their souls, while children cast bright flowers beneath His feet, and burn sweet incense before His presence (poor triumph, indeed, it is true, but triumph still); and then it is oftener round the village green than in the crowded city. Even in some Catholic lands, when He is carried to the bedside of the sick and dying, and when surely more than at other times He might look for some grateful recognition of His presence, it is oftener in secret and in silence, than with the triumph of believing love. Sometimes it is as a proscribed outcast in His own world that He passes on His visits of mercy and forgiveness; and His priests, instead of being able to assert His rights, are too often obliged to apologize for His presence in the streets. But at Rome the angels are ever looking down upon the triumph of the Blessed Sacrament.

We do not speak now of the procession of Corpus Domini, in which He, the Great High Priest, is borne in His Pontiff's arms with all the emblems of sovereign state, round the Colonnade and Piazza of S. Peter's into the great Basilica; nor of

those other processions by which every part, and almost every street of Rome, is blessed by His saving presence; for these are the organized expressions of Rome's devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. It is rather to the natural, uncalled for, spontaneous welcome with which It is received by all classes of the Roman people, whenever It is carried through the streets to the sick and dying, that we more especially refer. We will place one of these scenes before our readers.

The stranger, perhaps, is returning slowly homeward through one of the narrow streets of the city. The Ave Maria has been rung by the bells of all the churches, and the shadows of evening are falling fast upon the old houses, while their occupants, after the labour and heat of the day, are sitting or standing, singing or conversing at their several doorways, or, perhaps are gathered in little groups round the neighbouring "Friggitoria," where the brightly burning fire lights up the ever-varying expression of their Italian faces. Suddenly the sound of a distant bell falls upon the ear, and in the distance lighted torches are seen somewhat hurriedly approaching, while the murmur of many voices joined in prayer is borne upon the evening air. Instantly a hush falls upon the street, while the cry, " Il Santissimo! il Santissimo!" passes from mouth to mouth. Lamps of that old classic shape of which the Romans are still so fond, are snatched off the tables by those who may be still remaining in the house; and thus the whole street becomes spontaneously illuminated in honour of the Divine Majesty Which is passing by. All carriages, even of those of the highest rank, are stopped, and their occupants dismount, and either kneel upon the ground, or fall into the ranks of those who are following the little procession, with uncovered heads, to the sick-bed of the sufferer. In Rome all men are subjects of the Great King. Perhaps some cardinal (sometimes it may be the Sovereign Pontiff) has met the procession, as he is returning from his evening drive, and himself takes the Blessed Sacrament from the parish priest, and administers it with his own hands to the dying man. Rapidly, but reverently, the Sacred Host is borne along (for not a moment, perhaps, is to be lost), amid the kneeling crowd, while prayerful mothers hold up their smiling little ones to catch His smile. The house of the sick man is reached at last, and while a few enter with the priest to join in the responses of the Ritual, the crowd remains kneeling in the street, reciting the Litany of the Dying or the Rosary of the Mother of God. Then, when the absolving words have been spoken, and the Bread of Life given for the last time, the little procession is reformed, the priest, as he