great mass; every one knelt to receive the blessing, and the Pope's voice rang out clear and strong (one could hear every word). As soon as it was over cannon fired, bells rang, and there fluttered down over the crowd a quantity of little white papers (indulgences) which every one tried to grasp. It was a magnificent cadre for such a ceremony--the dome of St. Peter's towering above us straight up into the blue sky, the steps crowded with people, the red umbrellas of the peasants making a great show, and women of all conditions and all nationalities dressed in bright, gay colours; uniforms of all kinds, monks and priests of every order; the black of the priests rather lost in all the colour of uniforms, costumes, etc. The getting away was long--we might have had our carriage with the American cockade in one of the back courts of the Vatican, but we wanted to see everything and come home by the Ponte St. Angelo. It was a great show all the way--the long line of carriages and pedestrians streaming back to Rome, cut every now and then by a detachment of troops. Everybody was cheered, from Charette and his Zouaves to Montebello and his staff. The crowd was in a good humour--it was a splendid day, they had had a fine show, and politics and "foreign mercenaries" were forgotten for the moment. Everybody had a flower of some kind--the boys and young men in their hats, the girls in their hair. One heard on all sides "buona festa," "buona Pasqua." How we enjoyed it all, particularly the first time, when we were fresh from America and our principal idea of a fête was the 4th of July. That seemed a magnificent thing in our childish days, when we had friends on the lawn at Cherry Lawn, a torch-light procession with a band (such a band) from the town, and father's speech, standing at the top of the steps and telling the boys that if they worked hard and studied well, any one of them might become President of the United States, which statement of course was always received with roars of applause. [Illustration: Last Benediction of Pope Pius IX. from the Balcony of St. Peter's.] We went back to the Piazza always at night to see the "Girandola" fireworks, and there was almost the same crowd waiting for the first silvery light to appear on the façade of St. Peter's. It was marvellous to see the lines of light spread all over the enormous mass of stone, running around all the cupolas and statues like a trail of silver, in such quantities that the stone almost disappeared, and the church seemed made of light--quite beautiful. The illumination lasted a long time--gold light came after the silver, and I think it was perhaps more striking when they began to go out one by one, leaving great spaces in darkness--then one saw what an enormous edifice it was. I have written you a volume--but every turn here recalls old, happy days--"Roma com'era"--and I must come back to the present and our farewell dinner at the Noailles'.