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 at the beautiful fountain. We had the privilege of sitting with an American lady, the wife of an Italian count, who showed that she was happy enough to meet us Americans and speak with us about the home land. Just then the King and Queen were reviewing several well-equipped regiments of the line. Sunday reviews are popular in Europe, except perhaps with the Sultan of Turkey, who is wont to have some 20,000 soldiers escort him to his mosque worship on Friday. On Sunday morning after that review our friends took us to the Rev. Dr. Nevins's Episcopal church, where we had a helpful service. We found at the church Mrs. John Harris. She had been one of the most efficient missionary workers among our soldiers during the Civil War. I had seen so much of her then that I was glad to meet the noble lady again. Her Italian home was near Florence. She seemed well and contented, though kept abroad by order of her physician, who forbade a sea voyage. Perhaps there were no more instructive lessons than those my son and I had in visiting the studios of different celebrated artists. Rome was full of them, and studios were the popular resort of sightseers. Hardly any young man goes to Rome without experiencing some kind of romantic adventure. I had mine. The first day we ventured out from our hotel and crossed the Tiber we saw an active, restless multitude apparently composed of people from every civilized nation of the world. From the midst of what appeared to me to be a large family group, a little girl rushed out. She perhaps was ten years old. She came with a skip and a jump and extended one hand to me; in the other was a beautiful bouquet, tiny but variegated and sweet. She was tidily dressed, had a pretty figure
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