the poet that the one longing of her soul was to ride
behind Caretta, the donkey, and Browning replied that nothing could be
easier, as Girolamo, Caretta's owner, was the purveyor of vegetables to
Casa Guidi, and that they would appropriate his cart for a turn up Poggia
Imperiale. "_Di gustibus non_," began Browning. "Better let go Latin and
hold on to the cart," sagely advised the young sculptor. In the midst of
their disasters from the surprising actions of Caretta, they met her
owner. "_Dio mio_" exclaimed Girolamo, "it is Signor Browning. San
Antonio!" Girolamo launched forth into an enumeration of all the
diabolical powers possessed by Caretta, and called on all the saints to
witness that she was a disgrace to nature. Meantime the poet, the
sculptor, the vegetables, and the donkey were largely combined into one
hopeless mass, and Browning's narration and re-enactment of the tragedy,
after they reached Casa Guidi, threw Mrs. Browning into peals of laughter.

Again the Brownings sought their favorite Siena, where Miss Blagden joined
them, finding a rude stone villino, of two or three rooms only, the home
of some _contadini_, within fifteen minutes' walk of Mrs. Browning, and
taking it to be near her friend. But for the serious illness of Mrs.
Browning's sister Henrietta (Mrs. Surtees Cook) the summer would have been
all balm and sunshine. The Storys were very near, and Mr. Landor had been
comfortably housed not far from his friends, who gave the aged scholar the
companionship he best loved. Browning took long rides on horseback,
exploring all the romantic regions around Siena, such rides that he might
almost have exclaimed with his own hero, the Grand Duke Ferdinand,--

"For I ride--what should I do but ride?"

Penini, too, galloped through the lanes on his pony, his curls flying in
the wind, and read Latin with the old Abbe. The lessons under this genial
tutor were again shared with Miss Edith Story, one of whose earliest
childish recollections is of sitting on a low hassock, leaning against
Mrs. Browning, while Penini sat on the other side, and his mother talked
with both the children. Mr. Story's two sons, the future painter and
sculptor respectively, were less interested at this time in canvas and
clay than they were in their pranks and sports. The Storys and Brownings,
Miss Blagden and Landor, all loaned each other their books and newspapers,
and discussed the news and literature of the day. The poet was mu