at, tranquil apartment in the Corso, where I see all
the motions of Rome,--in a house of loving Italians, who treat me
well, and do not interrupt me, except for service. I live alone, eat
alone, walk alone, and enjoy unspeakably the stillness, after all the
rush and excitement of the past year.

I shall make no acquaintance from whom I do not hope a good deal,
as my time will be like pure gold to me this winter; and, just for
happiness, Rome itself is sufficient.

To-day is the last of the October feasts of the Trasteverini. I have
been, this afternoon, to see them dancing. This morning I was out,
with half Rome, to see the Civic Guard manoeuvring in that great field
near the tomb of Cecilia Metella, which is full of ruins. The effect
was noble, as the band played the Bolognese march, and six thousand
Romans passed in battle array amid these fragments of the great time.

TO R.F.F.

_Rome, Oct_. 29, 1847.--I am trying to economize,--anxious to keep
the Roman expenses for six months within the limits of four hundred
dollars. Rome is not as cheap a place as Florence, but then I would
not give a pin to live in Florence.

We have just had glorious times with the October feasts, when all the
Roman people were out. I am now truly happy here, quiet and familiar;
no longer a staring, sight-seeing stranger, riding about finely
dressed in a coach to see muses and sibyls. I see these forms now in
the natural manner, and am contented.

Keep free from false ties; they are the curse of life. I find myself
so happy here, alone and free.

TO M.S.

_Rome, Oct_. 1847.--I arrived in Rome again nearly a fortnight ago,
and all mean things were forgotten in the joy that rushed over me like
a flood. Now I saw the true Rome. I came with no false expectations,
and I came to live in tranquil companionship, not in the restless
impertinence of sight-seeing, so much more painful here than anywhere
else.

I had made a good visit to Vicenza; a truly Italian town, with much to
see and study. But all other places faded away, now that I again saw
St. Peter's, and heard the music of the fountains.

The Italian autumn is not as beautiful as I expected, neither in the
vintage of Tuscany nor here. The country is really sere and brown; but
the weather is fine, and these October feasts are charming. Two days I
have been at the Villa Borghese. There are races, balloons, and, above
all, the private gardens open, and good music on the