We had a quiet evening, and after dinner Mr. Virgo read to us the book I am so mad about, "The Call of the Wild." He read extremely well, and I liked the book even better hearing it read. It is a marvellous description of that wild life in the Klondyke, and a beautiful poetical strain all through. The children listened attentively, were wildly interested, particularly when poor Buck was made to drag the sledge so heavily loaded, for his master to win his bet. We also want to read Cardinal Mathieu's article in the "Revue des Deux Mondes," "Les derniers jours de Léon XIII."; but we have so rarely a quiet evening, and in the daytime every one is out in the beautiful Roman sunshine. We have all come upstairs early (ten o'clock) so I am profiting of a quiet hour to write, as I can't go to bed so early. This street is rather noisy. It is on the way to the station and some of the big hotels. Cabs and big omnibuses go through it all day and all night. I don't mind the noise. I rather like the roar of a big city--it means life. Thursday, March 31st. It is pouring to-day, and we have been out all day. I went to church this morning, but didn't get too wet with a thick serge dress and umbrella; then to breakfast at the Grand Hotel with some friends, and an excursion to the Palace of the Cæsars in prospect, under the guidance of Mr. Baddeley, who is an authority on all Roman antiquities and a great friend of Boni's. It rained so hard when we were sitting in the Palm Garden for coffee, that it seemed impossible the drops shouldn't come through, and we looked to see if little puddles were not forming themselves on the floor under our chairs, but no, it was quite dry. We started in shut carriages, thinking we would try for the Palace of the Cæsars, where we could get refuge, but it was shut, so we went on to San Giovanni in Laterano, and had an interesting hour wandering about the church. Our guide had old artistic Rome at his fingers' ends, and it certainly makes all the difference in seeing the curious old tombs and monuments when one has some idea as to who the people were, and what sort of lives they led. Mr. Baddeley said, like all the people who really live in Italy, that the summer was the time to see Rome; that no one could imagine what a Roman "festa" was unless he had seen one in the height of summer, when the whole population was out and in the streets all day and all night, in a frenzy of amusement. No priests were in the streets; a sort of tacit concession, or tolerance for just one or two occasions.