Vinnie begged of me to go with her instead
to the American chapel; she must and would sing hymns, and really did
sing them very well.
The chapel was bare. On the walls the ten commandments and a few other
quotations from Holy Writ, and above a small altar, "Do this in
remembrance of me," in Gothic lettering. I had to endure the hymns, the
sermon (awful), and the reading aloud of the ten commandments, with
muttered protestations and Amens after each one from the reverent
Americans. When we went out I said nothing, as I did not know whether
Vinnie might not be somewhat moved, for she sang at the end with great
emotion. However, she merely took my arm and exclaimed: "That minister
was the most stupid donkey I have ever heard in my life; but it is nice
to sing." Then she began a refutation of the sermon, which had hinged
chiefly on the words: "_Thy sins are forgiven thee_," and of the
unspeakable delight it should be to hear this. Vinnie thought that no
rational being would give a fig for forgiveness, unless there followed
with it a complete reinstatement of previous condition. What am I
benefitted if ever so many heavenly beings say to me: "I _pretend_
you have not done it" if I know that I have!
The last week in October we saw marvellous Northern Lights in Rome. The
northern half of the heavens, about nine o'clock in the evening, turned
a flaming crimson, and white streaks traversed the red, against which
the stars shone yellow, while every moment bluish flashes shot across
the whole.
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