Rome, May 21.
I am in the Eternal City. We passed through dirty Capua (shorn of all its soft temptations); with difficulty found a breakfast of chocolate and bread where Hannibal's victorious troops wasted with luxury and excess; enjoyed the perfume of the orange and lemon trees that line the way in the territories of Naples; at midnight awoke the last gendarme of his Neapolitan Majesty, who swung open the heavy gates through which we entered the territories of the Supreme Pontiff; rode all night; crossed for twenty-eight [101] miles the Pontine marshes; and at length, from the heights of Alba, near the tomb of the Curiatii, descried the dome of St. Peter's and Rome! I have now driven within sight of the Colosseum and the Arch of Constantine, and under Trajan's Column! My fondest expectations are all on tiptoe. Good-by and love to you all. Most affectionately ever,
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Cambridge, MA. Press of John Wilson and Son. 1877.
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