It would be difficult to describe the excitement which prevailed in the Eternal City pending the eventful moment when Rome’s beloved Pontiff was to take possession of the Church of S. John Lateran, a function which answers to the Sacre of the French monarch, or the Coronation of the English. Pio Nono was at that moment the most popular sovereign in Europe, and he commenced his reign in a most auspicious manner. Liberal in his views, patriotic in aspirations for his beloved country, practically religious as became a priest, he had brought golden opinions with him from the See of Imola, where he had been Bishop. Of courteous and winning manners, witty and agreeable in conversation, a delightful companion, a charitable patron, His Holiness seemed calculated to become, as was indeed the case, a favourite with all sorts and conditions of men. Every morning brought some fresh story of wisdom or of kindness, and as we had a friend at the Papal Court, we were kept _au courant_ of what, to us, were interesting details. Once when a certain man on his death-bed had disinherited his wife and children, with whom he was on bad terms, and had left a large sum to the priest who should celebrate his black Mass, the Pope elected to officiate himself. He carried out his plan, and, supplementing the legacy by an addition from his own treasury, he caused an assignment of it to be made to the poor widow, who stood in great need of assistance. [Sidenote: PIO NONO] His witty sayings were often quoted, and it was universally believed that many of the answers to the frequent pasquinades which were promulgated at that time were actually prompted by the Pope. Alas! for the bright prospects of those early days and the short-lived popularity which could not be expected to outlast the influence of evil counsellors, who baffled and thwarted him on every occasion! Faltering and vacillating in the noble path on which he had entered, he disappointed the hopes of those who had hailed his accession with joy. Not only in the grand procession, but on several occasions, and under important and interesting circumstances, had I the joy of seeing him. Once it was on his name-day of San Giovanni, when the Court of the Quirinal was entirely thronged with his subjects, calling out his name, and pleading that he should appear before them. When he did so, and bowed and waved his hands in benediction over the heads of the assembled multitude, how imposing and beautiful the spectacle! Again, at a midnight festival in Santa Maria Maggiore, when he was carried on high, in his crimson chair of state, between the two traditional fans of peacocks’ feathers, the sight nearly cost me my life, so dense was the crowd and so imminent the danger to myself and my sister. A third time on the night of Easter Sunday, when the illumination of the whole building of St Peter’s, bursting forth into light at one moment, seemed a miracle, for gas was still unfamiliar, and electric light unknown. How