Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1879-12-20
Vaccinations of Life i'm Rome.

But OF course we unQ IL at last. the home walt
ing for us in the heart Of old Rome and our days
Of vexatious house hunting are forgotten in its
coy comfort. And as our sweet lazy padrona
is not long married, she has not had time to
ture and bric-a-brac. There are positively only
four pictures In the scion. and glazing Is repre-
sented in two small candelabra and a French
clock. II our handicapped bureaus only had
handles to the drawers. and our easy chairs
were not SO poorly made that we are almost
afraid to sit down In them, we should be quite
content. As for the daily bread, :" fresh rolls,
milk and butter are delivered at our door every
morning; dinners come smoking hot from res
taurant In tin trunk on mans head. How
he manages to mount safely our seventy-two
steps and never tip over the kettle of Goals into
the SOup-tureen, we can't imagine.
With markets giving us fresh fruits, does not
IL all seem like the perfection of easy hOuSekecp
tM months foresee and we shall change from
one restaurant to another to get change of fare,
and throw ourselves finally on the tender mer-
like and relieve us from such an Italian combi-
nation rs came only yesterday and Sau-
SageS on the same plate.
But the charm OF Italian life comes on us
even in these early days 1t Is something. II
you must be so prosatc as to enter old Rome by
q railway. to find that the depot Is put down on
the map as part OF the old baths OF Diocletian;
and house hunting, with hurried glimpses as
and the fountain of Trev1 and the Tfber, Is cal
culated to stir strangely one fancies. And the
plCCuIeSQucneSS OF U0e SbTeeUS SUTlktS one AT
once What with priests and soldiers and the
passion of the women for brightness, they are
all life and color Priests in brown, priests in
white priests in scarlet; soldiers with an opu-
lent variety of uniform, and plumeS and taSSels
and silver braid enough to ruin modest gov
eminent. Is it because war is in itself so little
alluring that soldiers are always so gay? Or Is
1t the last remnant Of the time when men RI
vailed women in the splendor of their dress?
We are all getting OF late years to monot-
onous uniform of dark colors- We shrink
even from a too gay flower or ribbon
women have no such Scruples, and the rain
bow scarfs, the bright plumes and ornaments
they wear, are pretty to see, and seemed suited
to this sunny air. And the life and variety of
the streets Is their charm to a northern mind.
Even while l write band sounds in the dis
lance, and see down the long street troop Of
gay soldiers. half hour ago vague, sonorous
chanting rose to our windows and below was
the long line Of priests bearing the dead to his
home All in brown robes, barefoot, and bear
ing long wax tapers their chant, their dark
procession, had In 1t something weird and Inn
pTeSSiye.
But the charm of the dead city one feels most,
perhaps from the public pleasure grounds on
the Pincian Hill. The vision of all these domeS
and spires rising at ones feet, the picturesqe
confusion of majestic ruin and modern shabbl-
ness, and beyond all, back even of the great
dome of st. Peters which crowns the distance,
the Alban hills standing up against the blue
all this is calculated TO touch the most prosaic:
and the proper historic emotions for which so
often one pines in vain, come of themselves
TGOO6 manu-