_23d January, 1877_.
A great many lovely things happened to me this Christmas, but if I
were to tell Susie of them I am sure she would be frightened out of
her bright little wits, and think I was going to be a Roman Catholic.
I'm writing _such_ a Catholic history of Venice, and chiseling all the
Protestantism off the old "Stones" as they do here the grass off
steps.
All the pigeons of St. Mark's Place send you their love. St. Ursula
adds hers to the eleven thousand birds' love. And the darlingest old
Pope who went a pilgrimage with her, hopes you won't be too much
shocked if he sends _his_ too! (If you're not shocked, _I_ am!)