It is real summer weather--too hot to walk in the morning, particularly from here, where we have to cross the open piazza before we can get anywhere. Thursday we went to the races with the Brancaccios, on their coach. It was most amusing, the road very animated all the way out from Porta San Giovanni to Campanelle; every one making way for the coach as they do in England. There was every description of vehicle, and quantities of police and soldiers--the road very strictly guarded, as the King and Queen were coming. It looked very pretty to see a patrol of cuirassiers suddenly appearing from under an old archway, or behind a bit of ruined wall, or from time to time one solitary soldier standing on the top of a high mound. It was very hot, the sun too strong on our heads, but we didn't go very fast; couldn't, in such a crowd, so we were able to hold our parasols. The course and all the tribunes were crowded; the women almost all in white or light dresses. The King and Queen came in an open carriage with four horses--no escort. We had a pleasant day, meeting quantities of people we knew. We had rather a struggle for tea; there were not nearly enough tables and chairs for so many people; but we finally got some under difficulties, two of us sitting on the same chair and thankful to get it. The drive home was lovely, cool, and very little dust. Rome looked soft and warm in the sunset light as we got near, and the statues on San Giovanni Laterano almost golden as the light struck them. It was interminable when we got into the file, and Brancaccio had some difficulty in turning into his court-yard. Monday, April 18th. It is enchanting summer weather, but too hot for walking. I have had two charming auto expeditions with Mr. and Mrs. Bishop. Saturday we started after breakfast to Cività Vecchia. The country is not very interesting near Rome, but it was delightful running along by the sea--the road low and so close to the water that the little waves came nearly up to the wheels. Cività Vecchia looked quite picturesque, rising up out of the sea. We didn't stop there, merely drove through the town, and came home another way inland, through the hills, quite beautiful, but _such_ sharp turns and steep bits. We climbed straight up a high hill (2,000 feet) soon after leaving Cività Vecchia, and had for some time a divine view of sea and coast; then plunged at once into the mountains, great barren, stony peaks with little old grey villages on top; hills rolling away on each side, a wild, desolate country. The road was very lonely, we met only a few carts; the peasants frantic with terror as the big auto dashed by.