s.

I heard, probably from herself, of whispered calumnies, such as those
she refers to in the first of the two letters given. She despised them
then, as those who loved and valued her did, though the sensitive
womanly gentleness of her nature made it a pain to her that any
fellow-creature, however ignorant and far away from her, should so
think of her. And my disgust at a secret attempt to stab has impelled
me to say what I _know_ on the subject. But I really think that not
only those who knew her as she lived In the flesh, but the tens of
thousands who know her as she lives in her written words, cannot but
feel my vindication superfluous.

The above long and specially interesting letter is written in very
small characters on ten pages of extremely small duodecimo note-paper,
as is also the other letter by the same writer given above. Mrs.
Browning's handwriting shows ever and anon an odd tendency to form
each letter of a word separately--a circumstance which I mention for
the sake of remarking that old Huntingford, the Bishop of Hereford, in
my young days, between whom and Mrs. Browning there was one thing in
common, namely, a love for and familiarity with Greek studies, used to
write in the same manner.

The Dall' Ongaro here spoken of was an old friend of ours--of my
wife's, if I remember right--before our marriage. He was a Venetian,
or rather to speak accurately, I believe, a Dalmatian by birth, but
all his culture and sympathies were Venetian. He had in his early
youth been destined for the priesthood, but like many another had been
driven by the feelings and sympathies engendered by Italy's political
struggles to abandon the tonsure for the sake of joining the "patriot"
cause. His muse was of the drawing-room school and calibre. But
he wrote very many charming little poems breathing the warmest
aspirations of the somewhat extreme _gauche_ of that day, especially
some _stornelli_ after the Tuscan fashion, which met with a very wide
and warm acceptance. I remember one extremely happy, the _refrain_
of which still runs in my head. It is written on the newly-adopted
Italian tricolour flag. After characterising each colour separately in
a couplet, he ends:--

"_E il rosso, il bianco, e il verde,
E un terno che si giuoca, e non si perde_."

The phrase is borrowed from the language of the lottery. "And the
red, and the white, and the green, are a threefold combination" [I
am obliged to be horribly prosaic in