y by the 'Roman
hand.' In the 'Illustrated News' also, Robert (not I) read an
enthusiastic notice. He fell upon it at the reading-room where I never
go on account of my _she_-dom, women in Florence being supposed not--

(_Part of this letter is missing_)

Think of me who am far, yet near in love and thought. Love me with that
strong heart of yours. May God bless it, bless it!

I am ever your attached
E.B.B., rather BA.

I have had a sad letter from poor Haydon's daughter. She has fifty-six
pounds a year, and can scarcely live on it in England, and inquires if
she could live in any family in Florence. I fear to recommend her to
come so far on such means. Robert's love. _May God bless you and keep
you! Love me._

* * * * *

_To Miss Mitford_

Florence: October 19, 1854.

I will try not to be overjoyed, my dear, dearest Miss Mitford, but,
indeed, it is difficult to refrain from catching at hope with both
hands. If the general health will but rally, there is nothing fatal
about a spine disease. May God bless you, give you the best blessing in
earth and heaven, as the God of the living in both places. We ought not
to be selfish, nor stupid, so as to be afraid of leaving you in His
hands. What is beautiful and joyful to observe is the patience and
self-possession with which you endure even the most painful
manifestation of His will; and that, while you lose none of that
interest in the things of our mortal life which is characteristic of
your sympathetic nature, you are content, just as if you felt none, to
let the world go, according to the decision of God. May you be more and
more confirmed and elevated and at rest--being the Lord's, whether
absent from the body or present in it! For my own part, I have been long
convinced that what we call death is a mere incident in life--perhaps
scarcely a greater one than the occurrence of puberty, or the
revolution which comes with any new emotion or influx of new knowledge.
I am heterodox about sepulchres, and believe that no _part of us_ will
ever lie in a grave. I don't think much of my nail-parings--do you?--not
even of the nail of my thumb when I cut off what Penini calls the
'gift-mark' on it. I believe that the body of flesh is a mere husk which
drops off at death, while the spiritual body (see St. Paul) emerges in
glorious resurrection at once. Swedenborg says, some persons do not
immediately realise that they have passed death, and t