Friday, Sept. 13.--Anniversary of my first coming abroad, 1819. I got up soon after 5, said mass in a church opposite the inn, breakfasted at a café, then walked up the beautiful road to the high town called the _Città_, where our {324} inn was is the borga. Between them there are about 36,000. In the _Città_ I met a priest, by name Giuseppe Caffi, belonging to the collegiate church, who, when I asked him for Count Papi, volunteered to be my guide altogether. He showed me the cathedral, his own church, Sta. Maria, and a little convent church, Church of the Benedictine Nuns, beautifully gilt. He also went with me to the Bishop, who gave me one of the best receptions. By the same good hap as at Verona, the priests were in retreat. He introduced me to the Abbate Vittadini, conductor of the retreat, who promised to speak of England to the clergy. He was already full of zeal for it; he knew a good deal of the state of things with us. When I wrote my name, he knew it well, and it had a good effect. I went with Abbé Caffi to the palace of Count Papi; all were away. He came with us to the hotel, and soon we started for Milan. We arrived at 3, and found rooms in the best hotel (de la Ville). _Tables d'hôte_ at 5. I said office, and just got time to look in the cathedral before dinner, and again after we all went. It was beyond my recollections of old. I admired the ceiling, which seemed all beautiful openwork; I did not remember this. It seemed to be only painted so. How I remember Lord Kinnaird taking my mother to it. We tried two other churches to find Benediction in vain. Then I went with Phillipps to a bookseller's.