ling women to-day with babies in their arms. The babies
of the lower classes have their legs so wrapped up that they cannot move
them; they look like small pillows even when they are six months old. I
think it must dwarf them. We Americans are a tall people. I am a very
tall woman here. I think that P.'s height would cause a sensation in the
streets. My servant admires my height very much.

"March 22. I called on Miss Bremer to-day, having heard that she desired
to see me. She is a 'little woman in black,' but not so plain; her face
is a little red, but her complexion is fair and the expression very
pleasing. She chatted away a good deal; asked me about astronomy, and
how I came to study it. I told her that my father put me to it, and she
said she was just writing a story on the affection of father and
daughter. She told me I had good eyes. It is a long time now since any
one has told me that!

"Miss Bremer and Mrs. W. met in my room and remained an hour. Miss
Bremer is quiet and unpretending. Mrs. W. is flashy and brilliant, and,
as I usually say when I don't understand a person, a little insane; she
had the floor all the time after she came in. She gave a sketch of her
life from her birth up, mentioning incidentally that she had been a
belle, surrounded with beaux, the pride of her parents, with a
reputation for intellect, etc.

"I had been urging Miss Bremer into an interesting talk before Mrs. W.
appeared, and I felt what a pity it was that she hadn't the same
propensity to talk that the latter had. She talked very pleasantly,
however, and I thought what a pity it was that I shall not see her
again; for I leave Rome in three days for Florence.

"I was in Rome for a winter, an idler by necessity for six weeks. It is
the very place of all the world for an idler.

"On the pleasant days there are the ruins to visit, the Campagna to
stroll over, the villas and their grounds to gather flowers in, the
Forum to muse in, the Pincian Hill or the Capitoline for a gossiping
walk with some friend.

"On rainy days it is all art. There are the cathedrals, the galleries,
and the studios of the thousand artists; for every winter there are a
thousand artists in Rome.

"A rainy day found me in the studio of Paul Akers. As I was looking at
some of his models, the studio door opened and a pretty little girl,
wearing a jaunty hat and a short jacket, into the pockets of which her
hands were thrust, rushed into the room, seemingly