ise at finding that I was not a
Frenchwoman. He found us all at breakfast, and, after the first
compliments, began a voluble tirade in favor of the use of emetics,
which was scarcely in place at the moment. From this he went on to speak
of the management of children.

"When my son was born," he said, "and showed the first symptoms of
hunger, I would not allow him to be fed. If his cries had met with an
immediate response he would have said to himself, 'I have a servant.' I
made him wait for his food until he was obliged to say, 'I have a
master.'" I thought of my own dear nurslings and shook my head. Learning
that Mr. Crawford was a sculptor, he said, "I, too, in my youth desired
to exercise that art, and modeled a bust, in which I made concave the
muscle which should have been convex. A friend recommended to me the
study of anatomy, and following it I became a physician."

We reached Rome late in October. A comfortable apartment was found for
me in the street named Capo le Case. A donkey brought my winter's supply
of firewood, and I made haste to hire a grand piano. The artist Edward
Freeman occupied the suite of rooms above my own. In the apartment
below, Mrs. David Dudley Field and her children were settled for the
winter. Our little colony was very harmonious. When Mrs. Field
entertained company, she was wont to borrow my large lamp; when I
received, she lent me her teacups. Mrs. Freeman, on the floor above, was
a most friendly little person, partly Italian by birth, but wholly
English in education. She willingly became the companion and guide of my
walks about Rome, which were long and many.

I had begun the study of Hebrew in America, and was glad to find a
learned rabbi from the Ghetto who was willing to give me lessons for a
moderate compensation.

My sister, Mrs. Crawford, was at that time established at Villa Negroni,
an old-time papal residence. This was surrounded by extensive gardens,
and within the inclosure were an artificial fish pond and a lodge which
my brother-in-law converted into a studio. My days in Rome passed very
quietly. The time, which flew by rapidly, was divided between study
within doors, the care and companionship of my little children, and the
exploration of the wonderful old city. I dined regularly at two o'clock,
having with me at table my little son and my baby secured in her high
chair. I shared with my sisters the few dissipations of the season,--an
occasional ball, a box at the