er on the Pincio, listening to the sweet music of the Roman band,
while our eyes wander out over the myriad roofs and domes to where great
St. Peter's meets the western horizon; and we forget utterly those dark
centuries during which this lovely hill was given over to Nero's fearful
ghost, until a Pope, with his own hands, cut down the grand trees that
crowned its summit, thus exorcising the demon birds which the people
believed to linger in them and still to work the wicked emperor's will.

We take afternoon tea at the English Mrs. Watson's, beside the foot of
the _Scala di Spagna_, close to whose top tradition tells us that
shameless Messalina, Claudius's empress, was mercilessly slain.

And so it is throughout the city. Tradition, legend, and romance have
peopled every place we visit. Wars, massacres, and horrible suffering
have left a stain at every step. Love and faith and glorious
self-sacrifice have consecrated the ways over which we pass. And though
we do not give definite thought to these things always, yet all the
time the city is weaving her spell about our minds and hearts, and we
suddenly arouse to find that, traditional or historic, civilized or
barbarous, conqueror or conquered, ancient or modern, she has become
_Cara Roma_ to us, and so will be forevermore.

Thus it had been with Mrs. Douglas and Mr. Sumner, and so it now was
with the young people of their household who had come hither for the
first time.

The days flew fast. It was almost difficult to find time when all could
get together for their art study. Mr. Sumner had told them at first that
here they would study under totally different conditions from those in
Florence, so separated are the works of any particular artist save
Michael Angelo.

They had already visited individually, as they chose, those historic
palaces in which are most important family picture-galleries, such as
the Colonna, Farnese, Doria, Corsini, Villa Borghese, etc., but they
wished to go all together to the Vatican to hear Mr. Sumner talk of
Raphael's works, and right glad were they when finally a convenient time
came.

They walked quickly through many pictured rooms and corridors until they
reached the third room of the famous picture-gallery, where they took
seats, and Mr. Sumner said, in a low voice:--

"I did not wish to come here immediately after we had studied Michael
Angelo's frescoes. It was better to wait for a time, so utterly unlike
are these two great ma