only been into Genoa twice
myself. We are deliciously cool here, by comparison; being high, and
having the sea breeze. There is always some shade in the vineyard, too;
and underneath the rocks on the sea-shore, so if I choose to saunter I
can do it easily, even in the hot time of the day. I am as lazy,
however, as--as you are, and do little but eat and drink and read.

As I am going to transmit regular accounts of all sight-seeings and
journeyings to Forster, who will show them to you, I will not bore you
with descriptions, however. I hardly think you allow enough for the
great brightness and brilliancy of colour which is commonly achieved on
the Continent, in that same fresco painting. I saw some--by a French
artist and his pupil--in progress at the cathedral at Avignon, which
was as bright and airy as anything can be,--nothing dull or dead about
it; and I have observed quite fierce and glaring colours elsewhere.

We have a piano now (there was none in the house), and have fallen into
a pretty settled easy track. We breakfast about half-past nine or ten,
dine about four, and go to bed about eleven. We are much courted by the
visiting people, of course, and I very much resort to my old habit of
bolting from callers, and leaving their reception to Kate. Green figs I
have already learnt to like. Green almonds (we have them at dessert
every day) are the most delicious fruit in the world. And green lemons,
combined with some rare hollands that is to be got here, make prodigious
punch, I assure you. You ought to come over, Mac; but I don't expect
you, though I am sure it would be a very good move for you. I have not
the smallest doubt of that. Fletcher has made a sketch of the house, and
will copy it in pen-and-ink for transmission to you in my next letter. I
shall look out for a place in Genoa, between this and the winter time.
In the meantime, the people who come out here breathe delightedly, as if
they had got into another climate. Landing in the city, you would hardly
suppose it possible that there could be such an air within two miles.

Write to me as often as you can, like a dear good fellow, and rely upon
the punctuality of my correspondence. Losing you and Forster is like
losing my arms and legs, and dull and lame I am without you. But at
Broadstairs next year, please God, when it is all over, I shall be very
glad to have laid up such a store of recollections and improvement.

I don't know what to do with Timber. H