Easter Monday was a _festa_, and the men did not work. Some of the carpenters went for a long bicycle ride. Signor Donati appeared at breakfast in a fine sportsmanlike costume with gaiters, cartridge belt and game bag. We heard him blazing away all day with his gun. He shot one swallow. The tiny scrap of a bird was brought in on a plate at dinner, offered to me, then to the Captain, and finally sent to Brofferio, who was ill in his room. At the Villaggio Regina Elena there was a pretty ceremony that Easter Monday. On Sunday a poor blind woman, Giuseppa Lo Verde, gave birth to a little girl, the first child born in the Queen’s village. The child was baptized the next day and given the name of Elena. The ceremony took place at the tiny church the dear sailors built. Captain Bignami holding the little one in his arms at the baptismal font. One of the most popular places in the Camp was Dr. Donelson’s office, a tiny surgery, not more than eight feet square. The poor people had soon found him out--the unofficial work of this good physician deserves a whole chapter to itself. The doctor’s patients were not ungrateful; that Easter he had as thank offering a basket of golden citrons; a blue heron, warranted “good eating,” a handful of coppers from Zia Maddalena, whose grandchild he had cured. Though little was said of illness, there was plenty of it about. I was warned not to go near certain hovels, where scarlet fever was raging. The doctor was a daily visitor here; he nursed and tended the little children with a tenderness they will not forget. His office was rarely empty; during the half hour before dinner, when work for the day was over, the officers gathered here to talk things over. Sometimes the tinkle of Spofford’s guitar or the notes of the doctor’s flute came from the little office, with its neat shelves of bottles and faint odor of carbolic acid.