Underwood Johnson, this house consecrated to a poet's
memory has been purchased to be a permanent memorial to Keats and to
Shelley. A library of their works will be arranged in it; and portraits,
busts, and all mementos that can be collected of these poets will render
this memorial one of the beautiful features of Rome.

From the flower venders and the circulating libraries in the Piazza di
Spagna that allure one in the morning, from the fascinating glitter of
the little Via Condotti which is, in its way, the rue de la Paix of
Rome, one leisurely climbs the steps to where the great obelisk looms up
in front of the Convent Church of the Trinita di Monti and on, across
the Piazza di Trinita, toward the Pincian, one wanders along the brow of
the hill surmounted by the low stone parapet. The view is a dream of
beauty. Over the valley lies Monte Mario, crowned with the Villa Madama,
silhouetted against the blue Roman sky; and the commanding dome of St.
Peter's, the splendid new white marble buildings of the Law Courts, the
domes of other churches, all make up a picturesque panorama, while on
the Janiculum the great equestrian statue of Garibaldi can be descried.
Strolling on, one turns into the gardens of the Villa Medici, the
French Academy of Art, in which the present director, the great Carolus
Duran, is domiciled and in which twenty-four students--of painting,
sculpture, music, and architecture--are maintained at the expense of the
French government for several years, the twenty four being chosen from
those who have given signal proof of their ability. The Villa Medici
has, perhaps, a more beautiful site than any other building in Rome.
Facing the west, with the Janiculum and Monte Mario forever before it,
while below lies the Piazza di Spagna and the Piazza del Popolo, and all
the changing splendors of the sunset sky as a perpetual picture gallery,
the situation is, indeed, magnificent. It is still conceivable, however,
that Monsieur Carolus Duran must have many quarters of an hour when he
longs for the brilliancy and the movement and the stimulus of his Paris.
The gardens of the Villa Medici are large, but they are laid out with
narrow paths bordered with box, forming a wall as impervious as if of
stone, and dark and damp by the shade of foliage. These walks are paved
with gravel, and are always damp. These formal rectangles and alleys are
utterly shut in, so that in any one part one can see only the two
dense green wal