The Sun. — 1863-01-28 (London, England)

THE GHETTO.  Let us pass round this gigantic hulk that towers and glooms over the low, miserable houses near it, and we are into the Ghetto. We have entered, appropriate enough, into the Piazza del Pianto—the Place of Weeping—for sorrow and tears have been the heritage of the children of Israel ever since their splendid city was destroyed and they were scattered to the four winds of heaven. On the very spot where we now stand, or within a short distance from it, this Roman colony of Jews have lived for more than 18 centuries, despised and degraded—the pariahs of Europe and the Church. Through all the sad vicissitudes of these ages of ignominy, here they have clung with a pertinacity which is unaccountable. No savagery of persecution has been able to drive them away from the place where they have suffered most. Enslaved, and thrown to the wild beasts of the arena as sport for the imperial populace, outlawed and denied all intercourse with Christians by the Popes, branded with infamy, oppressed by cruel laws, irritated by constant insults, banned from the city, and crowded in wretched and unwholesome houses, they have hovered about Rome as moths round the lamp that burns them, and are now the oldest unbroken colony of Jews in Europe. Close by the side of the Papal Church, which claims to have been instituted by Christ, the Jewish Church, dedicated to Jehovah, has stationed itself, and maintained the law of Moses with unflinching faith. Persuasions and threats have been tried on it in vain, Under the unremitted burden of their woes, the Jews have obstinately resisted conversion, and on the ruins of the Pagan temples, and within the precincts of the city dedicated to Jove, the two churches of Moses and Peter have held their hostile camps.  Of the beggars of Rome we have a lengthened history, beginning, as in duty bound, with Beppo, king of the confraternity. This interesting individual deliberately selected his profession in youth, being incapacitated from active exertion by lameness. He has now amassed a comfortable fortune, and rides home at night on his donkey. His throne is on the upper step of the Scale di Spagna, close to the Trinita di Monti. The country festal are grand harvests for Beppo and his tribe, who outstrip all visitors.  BEGGARS AT A PETS, As you reach the gates of the town, thlthroz sidebe mt the furious. There are scores of beggars how far the town road, screaming in chorus. No wretched,m maimed cripple be from the city, there is not a of your acquaintance, not onernotart,hneootlda rsatugmgepds bwahreonhwahveo dodged you round a Roman ca through the public squares has levied toll for his passage a privileged robber who has shut up for you. a pleasant or waylaid ydu at an interesting church, but he is sure to be there. How i they got there is as inexplicable as how the apples got into the dumplings in Peter Pindar's poem. But at the first ring of a feels-bell they start up r from under-ground (those who are legless getting only half-way up), like Roderick Dhu's men, and level their crutches at you as the others did their arrows. An English lady, a short time since, after wintering at Rome, went to take the baths of Lucca in the summer. On going out for a walk, on the first morning after he: arrival, whom should she meet but King Beppo, whom she had just left in Rome I Ile had come with the rest of the nobility for recreation and bathing, and of course had brought his profession with him, The charities of the Roman Government are large, says the author, but the money is not always administered to the best advantage. There are hospitals of many kinds, besides establishments for the care of orphans and for the provision of young girls. He speaks warmly of the good qualities of the 'cellars, and by no means shares the depreciating prejudice which he affirms to be so common among visitors who know little of the people they  condemn. He represents them as a, prudent and abstemious people, and angrily refutes the charges of unhealthiness which foroignere bring against his beloved Rome, by bidding them do at Rome as the Romans de—live temperately and regularly, avoid heats and chills, and keep their windows closed at night to avoid the miasma from the Campegna. They are. es we all know, a cheerful people ; suicide is a thing almost unknown ; and one of their great amusements--in fact, almost a necessity of life to them— is the theatre. They are good actors, being entirely devoid of exaggeration and pretence. Of course, as the theatre is in such dernand among citizens who are by no means remarkable for wealth, it is indispensable that prices should be low, and that such is the case is proved by the ,:keoompanying picture of—