The last night Major Lamond, his wife, and I dined on the roof of the Villa Aurelia with Director Stevens, who is in supreme charge of the entire academy. According to Roman custom dinner began after nine o’clock. Beneath us and stretching out toward the Campagna was the entire city of Rome with its electric lights appearing like magic in every direction. Beyond the Campagna rose the mountains, still visible in the faint twilight. Opposite to us rose the hill of the Pincio Gardens, and on the left, just visible over the tree tops, flamed the cross of Saint Peter’s. The silence was profound until suddenly the bells of Rome began to vibrate from all directions, and finally, faint but clear, came the sound of a bugle from the military barracks, blowing the retreat. By this time I was sunk in a silent ecstasy, but a further climax was yet in store for me, for as the last notes of the bugle trembled into silence a nightingale from the bushes directly below us began to pour forth her song. Florence came next on our orchestral tour and I looked forward with eagerness after our crowded days of official receptions and concerts to a day absolutely free from duties of any kind. We arrived on May 24, and I hoped to sleep deep and late, but at nine o’clock next morning there was a knock at my door, and without any further preliminary warning in walked a young gentleman, who introduced himself as the representative of the mayor of Florence, who “sends regrets that he cannot be here himself but wishes me to give Maestro Damrosch the speech of welcome.” I begged him to excuse me for a few minutes and attired myself so that I could receive the mayor’s kind welcome in a more fitting garb and room. Our concert was at the splendid Politeama Theatre, a great amphitheatre with fine acoustics. Albert Spalding was our soloist, and as he had been virtually brought up in Florence and the people there had watched his career with eager interest, his appearance was a real homecoming and the greeting affectionate in the extreme.