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I is now many years since, early on a fine morning in the spring,—doubly so, in the spring of life and of the year,—that I found myself one of a party hastening along the road which leads from the Porta Capena to the Church of St. Sebastian, outside the walls of Rome. Others were before us, single, or in groups, and not a few were following us; so that when we reached our trysting-place, by the tomb of Cæcilia Metella, we formed a large gathering of youths, who soon clustered like bees round the learned Professor Nibby. For he was to be our leader and instructor in an antiquarian expedition; and he was now making his lucid preliminary address.

But it would not be incorrect to call this assembly our meet,—for we were going to open chase across the Roman Campagna, long before English hounds had coursed there. But it was not the fox nor the hare of which we were joining in pursuit,—we aimed at nobler quarry. It was for cities that we were going to hunt. Aye! for cities long lost, and only found again by our sagacious and intrepid guide a few years before, in 1824.

We first stumbled along over the ruins of the old Appian Way,—not then, as now, thanks to the care Rh