ilk, richly
embroidered, rich petticoat, nice shoes and stockings, and handsome
coral necklace, on one arm an immense basket of grapes, on the other
a pair of live chickens to be eaten by me for her sake ("_per amore
mio_"), and wanted no present, no reward: it was, as she said, "for
the honor and pleasure of her acquaintance." The old father of the
family never met me but he took off his hat, and said, "Madame, it
is to me a consolation to see you." Are there not sweet flowers of
affection in life, glorious moments, great thoughts? Why must they be
so dearly paid for?

Many Americans have shown me great and thoughtful kindness and none
more so than William Story and his wife. They are now in Florence, but
may return. I do not know whether I shall stay here or not: I shall be
guided much by the state of my health.

All is quieted now in Rome. Late at night the Pope had to yield, but
not till the door of his palace was half burned, and his confessor
killed. This man, Parma, provoked his fate by firing on the people
from a window. It seems the Pope never gave order to fire; his guard
acted from a sudden impulse of their own. The new ministry chosen are
little inclined to accept. It is almost impossible for any one to act,
unless the Pope is stripped of his temporal power, and the hour
for that is not yet quite ripe; though they talk more and more of
proclaiming the Republic, and even of calling to Rome my friend
Mazzini.

If I came home at this moment, I should feel as if forced to leave my
own house, my own people, and the hour which I had always longed for.
If I do come in this way, all I can promise is to plague other people
as little as possible. My own plans and desires will be postponed to
another world.

Do not feel anxious about me. Some higher Power leads me through
strange, dark, thorny paths, broken at times by glades opening down
into prospects of sunny beauty, into which I am not permitted to
enter. If God disposes for us, it is not for nothing. This I can say:
my heart is in some respects better, it is kinder, and more humble.
Also, my mental acquisitions have certainly been great, however
inadequate to my desires.

* * * * *

TO HER BROTHER, K.F. FULLER.

Rome, January 19, 1849.

MY DEAR RICHARD,--With my window open, looking out upon St. Peter's,
and the glorious Italian sun pouring in, I was just thinking of you; I
was just thinking how I wished you were here, th