Upon questioning Minna, she gave us a graphic description of the gentlemen.  One was “tall, oh so tall! with dark hair and red cheeks”—­in him we recognized Mr. Walworth Ward—­the other was a blonde gentleman whom she had seen here before.

“Lina has already made wine padding,” she said, seeing Ida about to descend and inspect the larder.  “Miss no fret—­all right.”

Ida and I then started to walk to the grove, where we thought we would probably find our guests awaiting our return.  Not there, indeed, but in the vegetable garden we found them, where they were kindly looking after the interests of the family by weeding the strawberry-beds, regardless of the Sabbath, and notwithstanding one of the gentlemen was a grandson of a D.D.  In answer to our regrets that we should have been absent when they arrived, they mildly intimated some surprise, one having telegraphed his proposed coming, and the other sent a message through papa the day previous; dear papa, however, had as usual forgotten to deliver the message, and whither the telegram went, no one could imagine.

July 1.

A visit yesterday from the little colored sculptress, Edmonia Lewis.  Miss Lewis was accompanied by a box of formidable size, containing, she told us, a marble bust of Mr. Greeley, which she had brought out here for the opinion of the family; but as Ida was in the city where she had gone for a day’s shopping, we reserved our judgment until she should return and see it with us.

I was very glad to learn that Miss Lewis was prospering in both a pecuniary and an artistic point of view.  She had, she told me, received two orders for busts of uncle—­one from the Lincoln Club, and one from a Chicago gentleman.  She intends returning to Rome before long.

Miss Lewis had already opened a studio while we were in Rome four or five years ago, and I heard much talk about her from her brother and sister artists.  I intended at one time to visit her studio and see her work, but several sculptors advised me not to do so; she was, they declared, “queer,” “unsociable,” often positively rude to her visitors, and had been heard to fervently wish that the Americans would not come to her studio, as they evidently looked upon her only as a curiosity.  When, therefore, I did see her for the first time (last summer), I was much surprised to find her by no means the morose being that had been described to me, but possessed of very soft and quite winning manners.  She was amused when I told her what I had heard of her, and remarked, quite pertinently: 

“How could I expect to sell my work if I did not receive visitors civilly?”

Miss Lewis expressed much gratitude to Miss Hosmer and Miss Stebbins for their kindness to her in Rome, and of Miss Cushman she said enthusiastically, “She is an angel!”