rich, warm, untainted earth and young life.

But all this is nonsense, mamma, and I shouldn't be writing it, if
I hadn't just come from the catacombs of St. Calixtus. To think of
Albert's insisting upon going there the very first thing! But so he
did, and so we went, and talked solemnly about the Appian Way, and saw
everybody's tombs and ashes, and quoted poetry, until I stuck a pin in
Albert's arm and sang Yankee Doodle, to keep from crying. Then, oh, how
shocked they looked. Even Mr. Mann seemed ashamed of me. When we reached
the place, we each took a candle and the guide led the way down into
the bowels of the earth. Mamma, they are very unpleasant. There were two
German youths along, and green lizards crawled all over. They winked at
me. The way grew so narrow that we had to walk one by one through lines
of wall perforated with holes for dead bodies. Once in a while we would
come to a small chapel, for miserable variety's sake, and be told to
admire some very old, very wretched painting. Jonah and the whale were
represented in a double-barreled miracle picture. Not only was the whale
about to swallow Jonah, but he was only as large as a good-sized brook
trout, while Jonah towered away above him like a Goliath. I found myself
wondering if the guide had convulsions, and, if he should have one now,
and die, how many days would pass before we should eat each other. And
would they take me first, because I am youngest and plumpest? Albert
would make good soup bones, and Eric's shoulder serve as a delicious
fore-quarter. And by the time we came to the top again, I was all ready
to cry. And then, mamma, I did an awful thing. Mr. Mann exclaimed: "Why,
Miss Mae, how frightened you look. You are quite white." And I answered
very sharply: "What a disagreeable man you are. I'm not frightened at
all." I said it in a dreadful tone, and how his face changed. He looked
so strangely. Everybody was still but Albert, and he said, "Why, Mae,
you are very rude to Mr. Mann." Even then I didn't apologize. So here we