for a time the traveler, who was
nevertheless glad to return to a world in which ceremony was less
dominant and absolute.

Among the frequent visitors at our rooms were the sculptor Crawford,
Luther Terry, and Freeman, well known then and since as painters of
merit. Between the first named of these and the elder of my two sisters
an attachment sprang up, which culminated in marriage. Another artist of
repute, Toermer by name, often passed the evening with us. He was
somewhat deformed, and our man-servant always announced him as "Quel
gobbetto, signor," "That hunchback, sir."

The months slipped away very rapidly, and the early spring brought the
dear gift of another life to gladden and enlarge our own. My dearest,
eldest child was born at Palazzetto Torlonia, on the 12th of March,
1844. At my request, the name of Julia Romana was given to her. As an
infant she possessed remarkable beauty, and her radiant little face
appeared to me to reflect the lovely forms and faces which I had so
earnestly contemplated before her birth.

Of the months preceding this event I cannot at this date give any very
connected account. The experience was at once a dream and a revelation.
My mind had been able to anticipate something of the achievements of
human thought, but of the patient work of the artist I had not had the
smallest conception.

We visited, one day, the catacombs of St. Calixtus with a party of
friends, among whom was the then celebrated Padre Machi, an ecclesiastic
who was considered a supreme authority in this department of historic
research. Acting as our guide, he pointed out to us the burial-places of
martyrs, distinguished by the outline of a palm rudely impressed on the
tufa out of which the various graves have been hollowed. We explored
with him the little chapels which bear witness to the ancient holding of
religious services in this dark underground city of the dead. In these
chapels the pictured emblem of the fish is often met with. Scholars do
not need to be reminded that the Greek word [Greek: ichthus] was adopted
by the early Christians as an anagram of the name and title of their
leader. Each of us carried a lighted taper, and we were careful to keep
well together, mindful of the danger of losing ourselves in the depths
of these vast caverns. A story was told us of a party which was thus
lost, and could never be found again, although a band of music was sent
after them in the hope of bringing them into safe