The hills were seen in vapory visions, shifting their hues with opaline glances; and over the green, billowy surface of the broad Campagna was settling a prismatic robe of mist, changing from rose to violet.

Earth seemed to be writing, in colored notes, with tenderest modulations, her farewell hymn to the departing God of Light.

And the visible music soon took voice in the vibration of vesper-bells, in the midst of which they entered Rome.

Flora, who was sobered by the solemn sounds and the darkening landscape, scarcely spoke, except to remind Mrs.Delano of the tambourine as they drove through the crowded Corso; and when they entered their lodgings in Via delle Quattro Fontane, she passed to her room without any of her usual skipping and singing.

When they met again at supper her friend said: "Why so serious?
Is my little one tired ?" "I have been thinking, Mamita, that something is going to happen to me," she replied; "for always when I am very merry something happens." "I should think something would happen very often then," rejoined Mrs.
Delano with a smile, to which she responded with her ready little laugh.