We are not ut a hotel ; we are too familiar with Luropsan travel to pay flratciass accoiumodalions. Wu havo taken apartmcnts in tlie house of a Roman l'aiuily, who reserves what is cleanly for their ti-nants, aud the opposito for theruselves. In all theso Roman lodgings thero is soinothiug extoriorly graad. Xbey ure old, decayed, and in a ïueasure dilapidated, aud yot tbere is a eharm iu their very antiquity. Thry ara not couvunicnt loiging houses, aro often dark and damp and cheerloss, bul they tiro - what shall 1 sayf liumau ; uo other word expresses it. With their oovored teiraoes," their obscuro corridors, their tuinbling stair oases, theiï unswopt halls, they are repulsivo to the housekceper, but attraotivo to the antiquary. You respect theui, but it is only for their old age. The very loungers who hang about the door fonn picturosquo Kruups -if you do not come too near. Üur ïaadlord is, 1 believe, a Itouinn noblo His chief source of iuoome is the petty ] nut he derives from the apartments in the front of the house ; hö and his family livo in the rear. Iu Home industry is not aristocratie, but dirfis. The father and soa frequent a cafó, drink water - for the llomans are notintemperate - read a ii'jw:. paper, and talk Italiau politics. The young ladies of which thcro are two, re main inslatternly inorning gowns till uiter noon prouionade, when you may see them on the streets dressed like ladies, and carrying theinselves as those who know by experienco nothir.g of poverty. The aira of a truo Roman's life is to do iiotlirujr, oi iis uuur it ns possible. If you are inclined to find fault with your uwn apartuifiits- and they will not bear tobe nieasured by Amorican standaids - go into thnirs. Thoy aru more kennels ; the dirt and confusión whioh reign would btrike disuiay into the heurts of a 'citizen of the Fourth Ward of New York city. The public halls partüke of this Koinun ohftracteristio. Thry are nevei swept. They constitnte, in fact, a sort of private street, for.theru ia no porter, and tuu ïniiiu docr stunds opeu day and 'light; a ratuor disagreeable streot to enter, also, ltite in thu eveiiing, for theítí is no light in the hall. Wé carry matchen and a taper in our poekets, or grope oir way ip to our uwn apartment as best we can, vividly remeiubering, and vainly striviny; to fbrget, thu fearlal stoiies we havo read in childhood of Italiau assassination. Tuis aspect of docay charaoterizes tho ontire city of Rome. It is the vcryoppos:te of Paris, üue typifios the modern, tho other tho ancient. Shiftless ! is tho excltttuation whichipriugs iuvoluntaiily to the lipa of the "ïankefl tourist a hundrod times a day. It impresees itself upon you at e very (urn of every street. The barber"s shop is a iittle awning utretched icrosa tho sidowalk. There is no euergy, activity, industry. The very sports uro idleis' sijorts, in which two or three stalwart Homans engage, whilo half a score of idlo on-lookeis gather round to soe. Iu such a oity one may enjoy much ; yot it is u city oï pitii'ul sights. Rome is like ;ui vd iii;m who has aequired neithor wisdom nor experience by uge. His hair is white, but scraggy and awry ; his clothos are not only threadbare, they are tattered and not overcleau ; he tutters and trombles as ho walks, and Iove3 botter to sit doang in sunny nooks ; his face is not I haggard with dissipation ; there are noblo capacities iu his broad brow, and restfulness and reposo in tho expression of all his features ; but there is uo latent fire in his eye, ño determination in the line of hia effeminate mouth, no vigor or resolution iu auy motion of his limbs ; he is guilty of uo groat crimes, because he ia guilty of nothing great ; he is only lessly iiizy.