that philological antiquaries might discuss with interest. It is probable that all the other Roman cities in England became just such self-increasing populations of what may be called the Latin race in blood and language, and that they had advanced a long way in the arts, habits, tastes, and occupations of civilized life when the Roman soldiery was withdrawn to defend the great metropolis of the world. The Roman empire died suddenly of heart disease. A man may be a Titan in size, with legs and arms of immense length and strength; but he may collapse and fall lifeless to the earth from paralysis as easily as a pigmy. So Rome fell, from no want of vigour in its limbs, but from a disease of the heart that had been generating for centuries. What became of all those Latinized populations in Britain, when the Roman soldiers left it? They certainly must have numbered half a million. They ought to have been double that figure. There were not vessels enough floating on the seas of the world to transport these numerous and populous communities, even if Italy could have given them house-room within its borders. They must have remained here and blended with the Saxons, through them with the Danes, and through both with the Normans.
The hill-top of the Wrekin overlooking this buried Roman city, and elevated 1,300 feet above the sea, is not only a grand point of observation
