I'll settle down anywhere for the winter, provided
only that it is not in Rome."
"But that is the very place," cried Edith, and Albert, and Mrs. Jerrold
from her camp-chair.
"O, how dreadful! The only way to prevent it will be for us to stand
firm, boys, and make it a tie."
"But Norman is especially eager to go to Rome," said Edith, "and that
makes us four strong at once in favor of that city."
"But is not Rome a fearful mixture of dead Caesar's bones and dirty
beggars? And mustn't one carry hundreds of dates at one's finger-tips to
appreciate this, and that, and the other? Is it not all tremendously and
overwhelmingly historical, and don't you have to keep exerting your mind
and thinking and remembering? I would rather go down to Southern Italy
and look at lazzaroni lie on stone walls, in red cloaks, as they do in
pictures, and not be obliged to topple off the common Italian to pile
the gray stone with old memories of some great dead man. Everything is
ghostly in Rome.
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