inter, in spite of the spirits of the sun
who declared from Lord Stanhope's crystal ball, you remember, that we
should. And we don't go to England till next summer, because we must see
Rome next winter, and must lie _perdus_ in Italy meantime. I have had a
happy winter in Florence, recovered my lost advantages in point of
health, been busy and tranquil, had plenty of books and talk, and seen
my child grow rosier and prettier (said aside) every day. Robert and I
are talking of going up to the monasteries beyond Vallombrosa for a day
or two, on mule-back through forests and mountains. We have had an
excursion to Prato (less difficult) already, and we keep various dreams
in our heads to be acted out on occasion. Our favorite friend here is a
brother of Alfred Tennyson's, himself a poet, but most admirable to me
for his simplicity and truth. Robert is very fond of him. Then we like
Powers--of the 'Greek Slave'--Swedenborgian and spiritualist; and Mr.
Lytton, Sir Edward's son, who is with us often, and always a welcome
visitor. All these confederate friends are ranged with me on the
believing side with regard to the phenomena, and Robert has to keep us
at bay as he best can. Oh, do tell me what you can. Your account deeply
interested me. We have heard many more intimate personal relations from
Americans who brush us with their garments as they pass through
Florence, and I should like to talk these things over with you. Paid
mediums, as paid clairvoyants in general, excite a prejudice; yet,
perhaps, not reasonably. The curious fact in this movement is, however,
the degree in which it works within private families in America. Has
anything of the kind appeared in England? And has the motion of the
tables ever taken the form of alphabetical expression, which has been
the case in America? I had a letter from Athens the other day,
mentioning that 'nothing was talked of there except moving tables and
spiritual manifestations.' (The writer was not a believer.) Even here,
from the priest to the Mazzinian, they are making circles. An engraving
of a spinning table at a shop window bears this motto: '_E pur si
muove!_' That's adroit for Galileo's land, isn't it? Now mind you tell
me whatever you hear and see. How does Mrs. Crowe decide? By the way, I
was glad to observe by the papers that she has had a dramatic success.

Your Alexander Smith has noble stuff in him. It's undeniable, indeed. It
strikes us, however, that he has more imagery