Tuesday, Sept. 5.--This being the feast of St. Lorenzo Giustiniani, I went out at 6¾ to find the church where his body is laid. He died in the very hotel where we are. The church I went to in a gondola in rain to St. Pietro at Castello--the ancient patriarchal church--and said mass at the high altar, where he lies. I walked back in rain, without umbrella, as I lost mine yesterday. I bought another. At 12, Padre Raffaelle, an Armenian priest, Mrs. Neville's confessor, to whom she introduced me yesterday, called and took me to the patriarch, Cardinal Monico, who received most graciously my propositions for England. I am to call again with the Phillippses on Saturday, and get something more exactly settled about the prayers; we then went across the Great Canal to the Del Redentore, where {319} is a convent of eighty Capuchins. The church is reckoned a _chef d'oeuvre_ of Palladio, built _ex voto_ by the Republic, after a plague. We saw the guardian, who is also provincial; he learned our want, and promised for his own house and ten others of the province. I came back to dinner. A Greek priest whom Phillipps got acquainted with the other day, came to dine with us, and sat till 9. His conversation was very interesting as showing the ideas of the Greeks about the Roman Church, and their doctrines on many points varying from ours. What a terrible evil is that of separation of nearly half of Christendom! The greater reasons to hasten the reunion of England, that we may draw the others.