n those days. It only required that we should make three
genuflections, simply bows, as we approached the spot where the Pope
stood, and three more in retiring, as from a royal presence, without
turning our backs. Monsignore Baggs, after presenting my husband, said
to him, "Dr. Howe, you should tell his Holiness about the little blind
girl [Laura Bridgman] whom you educated." The Pope remarked that he had
been assured that the blind were able to distinguish colors by the
touch. Dr. Howe said that he did not believe this. His opinion was that
if a blind person could distinguish a stuff of any particular color, it
must be through some effect of the dye upon the texture of the cloth.

The Pope said that he had heard there had been few Americans in Europe
during the past season, and had been told that they had been kept at
home by the want of money, for which he made the familiar sign with his
thumb and forefinger. Apropos of I forget what, he remarked, "Chi mi
sente dare la benedizione del balcone di san Pietro intende ch'io non
sono un giovinotto," "Whoever hears me give the benediction from the
balcony of St. Peter's will understand that I am not a youth." The
audience concluded, the Pope obligingly turned his back upon us, as if
to examine something lying on the table which stood behind him, and thus
spared us the inconvenience of bowing, curtsying, and retiring backward.

I remember to have heard of a great floral festival held not long after
this time at some village near Rome. Among other exhibits appeared a
medallion of his Holiness all done in flowers, the nose being made
rather bright with carnations. The Pope visited the show, and on seeing
the medallion exclaimed, laughing, "Son brutto da vero, manon cosi", "I
am ugly indeed, but not like this."

The experience of our winter in Rome could not be repeated at this day
of the world. The Rome of fifty-five years ago was altogether mediaeval
in its aspect. The great inclosure within its walls was but sparsely
inhabited. Convent gardens and villas of the nobility occupied much
space. The city attracted mostly students and lovers of art. The studios
of painters and sculptors were much visited, and wealthy patrons of the
arts gave orders for many costly works. Such glimpses as were afforded
of Roman society had no great attraction other than that of novelty for
persons accustomed to reasonable society elsewhere. The strangeness of
titles, the glitter of jewels, amused