t into the wall, wasting a vast deal of heat;
and then the doors and windows are far from tight; so that, altogether,
Paris in winter is not the most comfortable place in the world.

"Mr. Town and I, and probably Mr. Jocelyn, set out for Italy on Monday by
the way of Chalons-sur-Saone, Lyons, Avignon, and Nice. I long to get to
Rome and Naples that I may commence to paint in a warm climate, and so
keep warm weather with me to France again....

"I don't know what to do about writing letters for the 'Journal of
Commerce.' I fear it will consume more of my time than the thing is
worth, and will be such a hindrance to my professional studies that I
must, on the whole, give up the thought of it. My time here is worth a
guinea a minute in the way of my profession. I could undoubtedly write
some interesting letters for them, but I do not feel the same ease in
writing for the public that I do in writing to a friend, and, in
correcting my language for the press, I feel that it is going to consume
more of my time than I can spare. I will write if I can, but they must
not expect it, for I find my pen and pencil are enemies to each other. I
must write less and paint more. My advantages for study never appeared so
great, and I never felt so ardent a desire to improve them."

Morse spent about two weeks in Paris visiting churches, picture
galleries, palaces, and other show places. He finds the giraffe or
camelopard the most interesting animal at the Jardin des Plantes, and he
dislikes a ceiling painted by Gros: "It is allegorical, which is a class
of painting I detest." He deplores the Continental Sunday: "Oh! that we
appreciated in America the value of our Sabbath; a Sabbath of rest from
labor; a Sabbath of moral and religious instruction; a Sabbath the
greatest barrier to those floods of immorality which have in times past
deluged this devoted country in blood, and will again do it unless the
Sabbath gains its ascendancy once more."

From an undated and unfinished draft of a letter to his cousin, Mrs.
Roby, we learn something of his journey from Paris to Rome, or rather of
the first part of it:--

"I wrote you from Paris giving you an account of my travels to that city,
and I now improve the first moments of leisure since to continue my
journal. After getting our passports signed by at least half a dozen
ambassadors preparatory to our long journey, we left Paris on Wednesday,
January 13, at eight o'clock, for Dijon, in the dili