There was little shade anywhere. I hadn't the courage to walk in the sun as far as the Vestals' house, which is really most interesting. The recent excavations have brought to light so many rooms, passages, frescoes, etc., that the ordinary, every-day life of the Vestal Virgins has been quite reconstructed. One could follow them in their daily avocations. From where I was sitting I could see some of the great statues--some of the figures in quite good preservation, two of them holding their lamps. I found a nice square stone, and sat there lazily taking in the enchanting views on all sides--the Palatine Hill behind me, the Capitol on one side, on the other the three enormous arches of the Temple of Constantine; at my feet the Via Sacra running straight away to the Colosseum, the sky a deep, soft blue throwing out every line and bit of sculpture on the countless pillars, temples and arches that spring up on all sides. From a height, the Palatine Hill, for instance, the Forum always looks to me like an enormous cemetery--one loses the impression of each separate building or ruin. It might be a street of tombs rather than the busy centre of a great city. There were plenty of people going about--bands of Cook's tourists being personally conducted and instructed. If the gentleman who explains Roman history gives the same loose rein to his imagination as the one we used to hear in Versailles conducting the British public through the Historical Portrait Gallery, the present generation will have curious ideas as to the deeds of daring and wonderful rule of all the Augustuses and Vespasians who have made the Palace of the Cæsars the keystone of magnificent and Imperial Rome; and again "unwritten history" will be responsible for many wonderful statements. However, I wasn't near enough to hear the explanations. People were still coming in when I left, and all the way home I met carriages filled with strangers. We went out again rather late. I went for tea to Marchesa Vitelleschi, and before I came away Vitelleschi came in. I wanted to see him to thank him for sending me his book, a Roman novel, "Roma che se ne va."[34] It is very cleverly written, and an excellent picture of the Rome of 35 years ago, as we first knew it. I should think it would interest English and Americans very much, I wonder he hasn't translated it. [34] Rome which is disappearing. I found quite a party assembled in the little green salon when I got back--Don Guery, the Benedictine monk, who wishes to arrange a concert with Josephine for her charities, and M. Alphonse Mustel, who has just come from Paris with his beautiful organ. He arrived this morning early and hadn't yet found a room anywhere--all the hotels crowded. They say that for years they haven't had so many strangers for Holy Week. He is coming to play here Thursday afternoon.