The approaches to Rome in almost every case have a barren and uncultivated look, whether through the unfitness of the soil for cultivation, or whether, as seems more likely, through the absence of husbandmen and handicraftsmen in the city. On my journey hither I met divers troops of villagers from the Grisons and Savoy on their way to seek work in the Roman vineyards and gardens, and they told me they gained this wage every year. The city is all for the court and the nobility, every one adapting himself to the ease and idleness of ecclesiastic surroundings. There are no main streets of trade; what there are would seem small in a small town, palaces and gardens take up all the space. Nothing is to be seen like the Rue de la Harpe or de Saint Denis; I always fancied I must be walking in the Rue de Seine or on the Quai des Augustins at Paris. The aspect of the city differs little whether the day be a feast or a working day. Services go on all through Lent, and the crowds are just as great on a working day as any other, the streets being full of coaches, prelates, and ladies at this season. On the 16th of March, after our return to Rome, I was taken to make trial of the Roman hot baths at St. Mark’s, which have the best repute. I underwent a treatment of moderate strength, and, though I went alone, met with all possible respect. The usual custom is to take a lady as companion, who like yourself will be rubbed by the men in attendance. I learned here the composition of the unguent used for removing hair from the skin. It is made of two parts of quick lime and one of arsenic, blended with lye, and will have effect in less than a quarter of an hour after application. On the 17th I was troubled, not insupportably, with colic for five or six hours, and afterwards passed a large stone the shape of a pine kernel. At this season we had roses and artichokes as well, but the heat, according to my judgment, was not excessive. I wore the same clothes as I wear at home. We got less fish than in France; their pike is a useless beast, and is reckoned poor man’s diet. Soles and trout are rarely seen, but the sea barbel are very good and much larger than at Bordeaux, albeit dear. John Dorys and mullets, larger and less firm than ours, are very costly. The oil is so good that I never feel that irritation of the throat which always troubles me in France when I have partaken generously of it. Here you may eat grapes all the year round, and even up to this date fine bunches may be seen hanging on the trellises. The mutton is worthless and is in no esteem.