and Santa Agnese, St. Lorenzo, and the vineyards near Porta
Maggiore. I have passed one day in a visit to Torre dei Schiavi
and the neighborhood, and another on Monte Mario, both Rome and the
Campagna-day golden in the mellowest lustre of the Italian sun. * * *
But to you I may tell, that I always go with Ossoli, the most
congenial companion I ever had for jaunts of this kind. We go out in
the morning, carrying the roast chestnuts from Rome; the bread and
wine are found in some lonely little osteria; and so we dine; and
reach Rome again, just in time to see it, from a little distance,
gilded by the sunset.

This moon having been so clear, and the air so warm, we have visited,
on successive evenings, all the places we fancied: Monte Cavallo, now
so lonely and abandoned,--no lights there but moon and stars,--Trinita
de' Monti, Santa Maria Maggiore, and the Forum. So now, if the rain
must come, or I be driven from Rome, I have all the images fair and
fresh in my mind.

About public events, why remain ignorant? Take a daily paper in the
house. The Italian press has recovered from the effervescence of
childish spirits;--you can now approximate to the truth from its
reports. There are many good papers now in Italy. Whatever represents
the Montanelli ministry is best for you. That gives the lead now. I
see good articles copied from the "Alba."

TO MADAME ARCONATI.

_Rome, Feb. 5_, 1849.--I am so delighted to get your letter, that I
must answer on the instant. I try with all my force to march straight
onwards,--to answer the claims of the day; to act out my feeling as
seems right at the time, and not heed the consequences;--but in my
affections I am tender and weak; where I have really loved, a barrier,
a break, causes me great suffering. I read in your letter that I am
still dear to you as you to me. I always felt, that if we had passed
more time together,--if the intimacy, for which there was ground in
the inner nature, had become consolidated,--no after differences of
opinion or conduct could have destroyed, though they might interrupt
its pleasure. But it was of few days' standing,--our interviews much
interrupted. I felt as if I knew you much better than you could me,
because I had occasion to see you amid your various and habitual
relations. I was afraid you might change, or become indifferent; now I
hope not.

True, I have written, shall write, about the affairs of Italy, what
you will much dislike, if ev