hall be disappointed if there is no good
effect to be traced to 'judicious packing and sitz baths' that you can
tell us of. Did Beatrice enjoy her month's dissipation at Leghorn? And
is the voice prospering? Don't let her quite forget us. We make rather
a feeble attempt at musical Saturday evenings, having a new grand
piano, which stimulates musical desires. But we want a good violin and
violoncello--difficult to be found among amateurs. Having no sunshine
one needs music all the more. It would be difficult for you to imagine
very truthfully what sort of atmosphere we have been living in here in
London for the last month--warm, heavy, dingy grey. I have seen some
sunshine once--in a dream. Do tell us all you can about yourselves. It
seems only the other day that we were shaking you by the hand; and all
details will be lit up as if by your very voice and looks. Say a kind
word for me sometimes to the bright-eyed lady by whose side I sat in
your balcony the evening of the National Fete. At the moment I cannot
recall her name. We are going now to the British Museum to read--a
fearful way of getting knowledge. If I had Aladdin's lamp I should
certainly use it to get books served up to me at a moment's notice.
It may be better to search for truth than to have it at hand without
seeking, but with books I should take the other alternative.

"Ever yours,

"M.E. LEWES."

* * * * *

The lady in the balcony spoken of in the above letter was Signora
Mignaty, the niece of Sir Frederick Adam, whom I had known long years
previously in Rome, and who had married Signor Mignaty, a Greek
artist, and was (and is) living in Florence. She was, in fact, the
niece of the Greek lady Sir Frederick married. I remember her aunt, a
very beautiful woman. The niece, Signorina Margherita Albani as she
was when I first knew her at eighteen years old in Rome, inherited so
much of the beauty of her race that the Roman artists were constantly
imploring her to sit for them. She has made herself known in the
literary world by several works, especially by a recent book on
Correggio, his life and works, published in French.

The next letter from Lewes, written from Blandford Square on the 2nd
June, without date of year, but probably 1863, is of more interest to
myself than to the public. But I may perhaps be permitted to indulge
my vanity by publishing it as a testimony that his previous praise
of what I had written was ge