found a
messenger to poor Guiseppina, whose misfortunes I commiserate. You
know exactly how much and how little we want. But if I am to get any
good out of my visit I must lead the quietest of lives....

We propose setting out next Monday, the 13th,--Basle, Milan, Padua,
Treviso, Primiero, by the week's end.

I have been nearly eleven weeks in town, with an exceptional four
days' visit to Oxford; and hard social work all the time, indeed, up
to the latest, when, three weeks ago, I found it impossible to keep
going. Don't think that the kindness which sometimes oppresses me
while in town, forgets me afterward; I have pouring invitations to the
most attractive places in England, Ireland, Scotland,--but "c'est
admirable, mais ce n'est pas la paix." May I count on the "paix" where
I so much enjoyed it? I hear with delight that Edith will be with you
again,--that completes the otherwise incompleteness. Yes, the
Rezzonico is what you Americans call a "big thing."... But the
interest I take in its acquisition is different altogether from what
accompanied the earlier attempt. At most, I look on approvingly, as by
all accounts I am warranted in doing, but there an end....

... So, dearest friend, "a rivederci!" Give my love to Edith and tell
her I hope in her keeping her kindness for me, spite of the claims on
it of all the others. And my sister, not one word of her? Somehow you
must know her more thoroughly than poor, battered me, tugged at and
torn to pieces, metaphorically, by so many sympathizers, real or
pretended. She wants change, probably more than I do. And, but for
her, I believe I should continue here, with the gardens for my place
of healing. How she will enjoy the sight of you, if it may be! Tell me
what is to be hoped, or feared, or despaired of, at Pen's address,
whatever it may be. And remember me as ever most affectionately yours,

ROBERT BROWNING.

The succeeding letter, written from Albergo Gille, Primiero, tells the
story of a rather trying journey, what with the heat and his
indisposition, but on finding himself bestowed at Primiero he is
"absolutely well again," and anticipating his Venice: "what a Venice it
would be," he says, "if I went elsewhere than to the beloved friend who
calls me so kindly!" And he adds:

"My stay will be short, but sweet in every sense of the word if I find