er, and hope you are in a warm, comfortable house, have
pleasant books to read, and some pleasant friends to see. One does not
want many; only a few bright faces to look in now and then, and help
thaw the ice with little rills of genial conversation. I have fewer of
these than at Rome,--but still several.
* * * * *
Horace Sumner, youngest son of father's friend, Mr. Charles P. Sumner,
lives near us, and comes every evening to read a little while with
Ossoli. He has solid good in his heart and mind. We have a true regard
for him, and he has shown true and steadfast sympathy for us; when I
am ill or in a hurry, he helps me like a brother. Ossoli and Sumner
exchange some instruction in English and Italian.

* * * * *

My sister's last letter from Europe is full of solemnity, and
evidences her clear conviction of the perils of the voyage across the
treacherous ocean. It is a leave-taking, dearly cherished now by the
mother to whom it was addressed, the kindred of whom she speaks, and
by those other kindred,--those who in spirit felt near to and loved
her. It is as follows:--

Florence, May 14, 1850.

"Dear Mother,--I will believe I shall be welcome with my
treasures,--my husband and child. For me, I long so much to see you!
Should anything hinder our meeting upon earth, think of your daughter,
as one who always wished, at least, to do her duty, and who always
cherished you, according as her mind opened to discover excellence.

"Give dear love, too, to my brothers; and first to my eldest, faithful
friend, Eugene; a sister's love to Ellen; love to my kind good aunts,
and to my dear cousin E. God bless them!

"I hope we shall be able to pass some time together yet, in this
world. But if God decrees otherwise,--here and HEREAFTER, my dearest
mother,

"Your loving child,

"MARGARET."

PART IV.

HOMEWARD VOYAGE, AND MEMORIALS.

It seems proper that some account of the sad close of Madame Ossoli's
earthly journeyings should be embodied in this volume recording her
travels. But a brother's hand trembles even now and _cannot_ write it.
Noble, heroic, unselfish, _Christian_ was that death, even as had been
her life; but its outward circumstances were too painful for my pen
to describe. Nor needs it,--for a scene like that must have impressed
itself indelibly on those who witnessed it, and accurate and vivid
have been their narratives. The Memoirs of