nt
bannock of Indian meal, of which she afterwards said, "It was so good
that we ate what was left of it on the second day." This reminds me of a
familiar couplet:--

"And what they could not eat that night
The queen next morning fried."

Among the friends of that winter were Sarah and William Clarke, sister
and brother of the Rev. James Freeman Clarke. It was in their company
that Margaret Fuller made the journey recorded in her "Summer on the
Lakes." Both were devoted to her memory. I afterwards learned that
William Clarke considered her the good genius of his life, her counsel
and encouragement having come to his aid in a season of melancholy
depression and self-depreciation. Miss Clarke was characterized by an
exquisite refinement of feeling and of manner. She was also an artist of
considerable merit. This was the first of many winters passed by her in
Rome.

I will further mention only a dinner given by American residents in Rome
on Washington's birthday, at which I was present. Mrs. Ann S. Stephens,
the well-known writer, was also one of the guests. She had composed for
the occasion a poem, of which I recall the opening line,--

"We are met in the clime where the wild flowers abound,"

and the closing ones,--

"To the halo that circles our Washington's head
Let us pour a libation the gods never knew."

Among many toasts, my sister Annie proposed this one, "Washington's clay
in Crawford's hand," which was appropriate, as Thomas Crawford was known
at the time to be engaged in modeling the equestrian statue of
Washington which crowns his Richmond monument.

My Roman holiday came to an end in the summer of the year 1851, and my
return to my home and friends became imperative. As the time of my
departure approached, I felt how deeply the subtle fascination of Roman
life had entered into my very being. Pain, amounting almost to anguish,
seized me at the thought that I might never again behold those ancient
monuments, those stately churches, or take part in the society which had
charmed me principally through its unlikeness to any that I had known
elsewhere. I have indeed seen Rome and its wonders more than once since
that time, but never as I saw them then.

I made the homeward voyage with my sister Annie and her husband in an
old-fashioned Havre packet. We were a month at sea, and after the first
days of discomfort I managed to fill the hours of the long summer days
with systematic occupation. In