orster with the date of _Shakespeare's
birthday_, and overflowing with kindness really both to himself and
me. It quite touched me, that letter. Also we have had a visitation
from an American, but on the point of leaving Florence and very tame
and inoffensive, and we bore it very well considering. He sent us
a new literary periodical of the old world, in which, among other
interesting matter, I had the pleasure of reading an account of my own
'blindness,' taken from a French paper (the 'Presse'), and mentioned
with humane regret. Well! and what more news is there to tell you?
I have been out once, only once, and only for an inglorious glorious
drive round the Piazza Gran Duca, past the Duomo, outside the walls,
and in again at the Cascine. It was like the trail of a vision in the
evening sun. I saw the Perseus in a sort of flash. The Duomo is more
after the likeness of a Duomo than Pisa can show; I like those masses
in ecclesiastical architecture. Now we are plotting how to, engage
a carriage for a month's service without ruining ourselves, for we
_must_ see, and I _can't_ walk and see, though much stronger than when
we parted, and looking much better, as Robert and the looking glass
both do testify. I have seemed at last 'to leap to a conclusion' of
convalescence. But the heat--oh, so hot it is. If it is half as hot
with you, you must be calling on the name of St. Lawrence by this
time, and require no 'turning.' I should not like to travel under
such a sun. It would be too like playing at snapdragon. Yes, 'brightly
happy.' Women generally _lose_ by marriage, but I have gained the
world by mine. If it were not for some griefs, which are and must be
griefs, I should be too happy perhaps, which is good for nobody. May
God bless you, my dear, dearest friend! Robert must be content with
sending his love to-day, and shall write another day. We both love you
every day. My love and a kiss to dearest Gerardine, who is to remember
to write to me.

Your ever affectionate
BA.

_To H.S. Boyd_
Florence: May 26, 1847.

I should have answered your letter, my dearest friend, more quickly,
but when it came I was ill, as you may have heard, and afterwards I
wished to wait until I could send you information about the Leaning
Tower and the bells[159]. The book you required, about the cathedral,
Robert has tried in vain to procure for you. Plenty of such books,
but _not in English_. In London such things are to be found, I