"
Momma was inclined to argue the point, but Miss Callis looked so
shocked that she desisted.
"Perhaps, Mrs. Wick," she said sarcastically, "you intend to go to see
the Baths of Caracallus!"
To which momma replied certainly _not_, that was a very different thing.
And if I am unable to describe the Baths of Caracallus in this history,
it is on account of Miss Callis's personal influence and the remarkable
development of her sense of propriety.
At momma's suggestion we walked slowly all round the Via Sacra, looking
steadily down at its little triangular original paving-stones, and tried
to imagine ourselves the shackled captives of Scipio. If the party had
not consisted so largely of Emmeline the effort might have been
successful. Fragments of exhumed statuary, discoloured and featureless,
stood tipped in rows along the shorn foundations and inspired in Mr.
Malt a serious curiosity.
"The ancients," said Mr. Malt with conviction, "were every bit as smart
as the moderns, meaning born intelligence. Look at that ear--that ear
took talent. There isn't a terra-cotta factory in the United States that
could turn out a better ear to-day.
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