We are really leaving to-morrow morning, get to Turin for dinner. As we telegraphed yesterday the address I hope we shall find letters. It has been lovely again all day, so our last impressions are good. I have quite forgotten the rain and dark of the other day. The padrone has just informed us, with much pride, that the Crown Princess of Germany arrives to-night in this hotel from Vienna. I wish she had come yesterday--I should have liked to see her again. I have been out shopping this morning, but it is difficult; there is not much to buy, at least not in the nice big shops of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, and I am a little afraid of the antiquities--I know so little about bric-à-brac (au fond like modern things just as well, but other people don't, and would much rather have a really ugly, queer-shaped old cup or glass than the most graceful modern creation). The padrone gave me the address of a good antiquity shop, and said I could be perfectly sure in taking anything they said was old, and I need only say he had recommended me to go there. I found beautiful things, but all large, cassoni, high-backed, carved arm-chairs and Venetian mirrors, but the prices were awful and the things much too big. I wanted something smaller that I could put into my trunk. We went back to the Piazza dei Mercanti and, after looking about at many of the little shops, I did find some rather curious silver spoons and boxes. The spoons have quaint, long handles ending in a head, not apostles, but soldiers and women with veils and crowns. The boxes are most elaborately carved--on the cover of one there are 21 figures--a sort of vintage with bunches of grapes. As usual there were many people lounging about and stopping at all the shops--some of them wildly interested in my purchases. One funny little old man with a yellow face and bright eyes was apparently much pleased with the box I chose--nodded and smiled at me, saying: "Una bellezza questa" (this is a beauty). On our way back we went into the great court-yard of the Ospedale Maggiore, an enormous brick building with fine façade and high pointed windows; the walls covered with medallions and ornaments in terra-cotta. I believe it is one of the largest hospitals that exist and certainly once inside those great courts one would feel absolutely cut off from the outside world. There seemed to be gardens and good trees at the back--we saw the green through the cloisters, and there was a fine loggia overlooking the court. It was as sleepy and quiet as possible to-day--no sign of life, no concierge nor porter, nor patient of any kind visible. If we had had time and wanted to go over the hospital I don't know whom we could have applied to.