Italian Days and Ways

na, Rome,

meant, it is because some of the glamour of that time caused will-o'-the-wisps to mislead you. No, "gang your ain gait, Allan," as your mother's old Scotch maid used to say. You have a great future before you in your profession, and I-it seems to me sometimes that I have only a past, and a present which I live day by day, with no plans for the years to come. It is so difficult to readjust one's life to new standards, and those who stake much lose heavily. We both loved Headley too well to say o

spoke of it. It was an acute attack, I assure you, and, like the proverbial grief of the widower, violent while it lasted, but soon well over and done with. Now we wonder how any one could possibly be homesick in this Italy which we love so much,

's romantic name, which she feels it her duty to live up to, and her own, equally fanciful, which she takes pleasure in defying. By way of adapting herself gracefully to the situation, Angela has fallen into the habit of calling Ze

e with a woman whose mind is so stored with the poetry and history of these old cities, one who enters so heart and soul into every interesting association

id, "steeped in the

asis. "I feel that I am now enjoying that libera

including your expressions," I

a, lifting her innocent blue eyes to mine. "I mean that Z. swims in

oses in your mother's garden, which were always the reddest. Zelphine having stepped on in advance of us to attend to a commission at the cleaner's, where they "gar au

Shelley tablet on that house. I saw it several days ago, but I thought I'd let Z. find it for herself. She'll never rest content till she sees the room in which Shelley wrote 'The Cenci' and 'Prometheus Unbound.' It is probably not worth seeing when you get into it, and may not be th

my dear, that makes you and L

d her light,

Rome without seeing the Catacombs of Calixtus, at least. You know that I don't care for such dismal places. Rome is so gay and bright on top, why should we burrow undernea

here Shelley had once written, and to look from the windows from which he could see the varied, moving panorama of the busy Corso and the ancient Church of San

the abbess and nuns, "under pain of the greater excommunication," to permit this noble lady the usual solace of afflicted

n Lorenzo, where is the little Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, in which Browning's Pomp

marble l

body rushing

igure of a p

a wild and stormy sky, we realized how the suffering face of the compassionate Christ m

e p

ido Reni, Ch

ught observa

ut to the Baths of Caracalla, which even now cover so large a space that they have been well named a city of pleasure. We climbed over the m

a. They are denuded of the vines and flowers that adorned them when, as Shelley says, he wrote his poem "among the flowery glades and thickets o

d white beyond the blue, where the snow lingers late upon their peaks. Like another mountain stands out the dome of St. Pet

of Caius Cestius, is the old Protestant Cemetery. An ideal Campo Santo is this lovely spot, of which Shelley wrote that "it might make one in love with death to think that

spirit of the

to a slope o

infant's smil

g flowers along th

ished to have written above his grave: "Here lies one whose name was writ in water." It was comforting to turn from this to a marble tablet on the wall near by, where ther

tened to her girdle, whom Zelphine and I likened to "the damsel named Discretion." Angela, being

iscreet, when she is not able to

t she calls the lack of background in the outlook of the girl of to-day, who

ied near the friendly shades of Keats and Severn. Yet Mrs. Shelley, in writing of the burial of the ashes of her husband, makes

pul

him, but o