s. Trollope has
thrown over Hume[48] from some failure in his moral character in
Florence. I have had many letters on the subject. I have no doubt that
the young man, who is weak and vain, and was exposed to gross flatteries
from the various unwise coteries at Florence who took him up, deserves
to be thrown over. But his _mediumship_ is undisproved, as far as I can
understand. It is simply a physical faculty--he is quite an electric
wire. At Florence everybody is quarrelling with everybody on the
subject. I thought I would tell you.

Penini, the pet, is radiant, and learning French triumphantly. May God
bless you! Write to me, dearest Mrs. Martin, and tell me of both of you.
Robert's love.

Your ever, ever affectionate
BA.

* * * * *

_To Mrs. Jameson_

[Paris]: 3 Rue du Colisee: February 28, 1856 [postmark].

My dearest Mona Nina,--Three letters, one on the top of another, and I
don't answer. Shame on me. How I have thought of you, to make up! And
you write to apologise to _us_, from a dreamy mystical apprehension that
we may peradventure have lost eightpence on your account! Well, it would
have been awful if we had. And so Providence interposed with a special
miracle, and obliged the officials to accept the actual penny stamp for
the fourpenny stamp you meant to put, and _we paid just nothing for the
terrible letter_! Take heart, therefore, in future, before all
hypothetical misfortunes. That's the moral of the tale....

My dear friend, how shall I pull you and make you come to Paris? Madame
de Triqueti was here the other day, and spoke of you, and swore she
wouldn't help to take rooms for you, unless you came near _her_. As to
the two rooms you speak of, I am sure you might have what rooms you
pleased now, in this neighbourhood. What would you give? Our present
apartment is comfort itself, and except some cold days a short time
after you went away, we have really had no winter. The miraculous warmth
has saved me, for I was so _felled_ in that Rue de Grenelle, I should
scarcely have had force against an ordinary cold season. Little Penini
has been blossoming like a rose all the time. Such a darling, idle,
distracted child he is, not keeping his attention for three minutes
together for the hour and a half I teach him, and when I upbraid him for
it, throwing himself upon me like a dog, kissing my cheeks and head and
hands. 'O you little pet, _dive_ me one chance more! I will r