Caroline Crane Marsh Diaries, 1863

I dragged myself into the drawing room just in time to receive Mr & Mrs Valerio. The latter & I fought a little, as we always do when we meet, - this time over Fanny Kemble Butler. After a half hour’s lively chat & a cup of chocolate, they left me to go and dine with the Sadas in Sestri. The little Strettell girls then came in to see me - the youngest, little Alma, eight years old, brought with her associations that almost overcame me, but I was able to recover myself. Mrs Strettell herself came later & was very kind & sympathising, and Mr Strettell spent an hour with me later. I found him well acquainted with American literature, a great admirer of Lowell, Holmes etc. As to the latter, when I remarked that I never read his prose without being painfully impressed with the conviction of the deep unrest of the soul from which it came, Mr S. said that precisely the same impression was made on him, that the very bitterness with which he, Dr H, assaulted certain creeds distasteful to him was tremulous with his own uncertainties. No one, certainly, can esteem Dr Holmes less for being a seeker after truth. Such doubting as his is better a thousand times than that utter want of all thoughts tha which so often passes for faith. But it would certain surely be more graceful & more modest on his part to abstain from attacking so virulently the beliefs of other until he has himself made sure of some shining truth to give in place of what he would take. - In the evening we all gathered round the tree which was gay with flags & dolls & sugar plums and fairies. Mr Strettell, after the distribution of the treasures, showed the children the magic lantern, then followed charades, snapdragon & the usual Christmas games. Young Mr Strettell however was very anxious to talk over American affairs & we too soon forgot games and every thing else in our zeal in our subject. He wished to know ‘why we complad complained of England’ and I told him. As, fortunately, I was able to support my statements by English admissions, the young gentleman was soon hard pushed, the Baroness Gautier - a most intelligent and lovely woman - turned from the plays to listen, and I soon found myself the orator of the evening, with a most attentive audience. Indignation and the deepest feeling on the subject supplied me with words even in a foreign language and when, at twelve o’clock, I sat down before my own dressing glass and saw my crimson cheeks and eyes in which the fire was still burning, I could not help smiling - half in shame at my warth warmth, half in pride at the truths I had brave enough to utter whole & unvarnished.

A sleepless night, or almost so, the natural consequence of my little strength and great zeal last evening, leaves me dull to-day, and half ill - Mr Marsh returned at 9 P.M. from Turin. His interview with the king was highly satisfactory, and the terms in which His Majesty expressed his deep sympathy with our Government and his regard for Mr Marsh personally were most gratifying. [illegible] What a shame that everything should be published in such a way from our State Dep. that no minister dares write even his Despatches with full freedom. Great regret & indignation is felt at Turin at the recall of the Prussian Minister Count Brasier de St Simon, who has been a staunch friend to Italy for eleven years. - The new Ministry is popular and strong. Minghetti takes strong ground for the cause of the North in our quarrel. the others friendly but less demonstrative.

The settlement of monthly bills and a visit from the Consul used up the day for me. I hoped that by this retreat into the country we might reduce our expenses a little, but travelling back & forth from Turin, charities, & churches and Christmas & N. Years gifts & taxes have consumed every penny of our salary for the month just finished - if we can only live here what we shall do in Turin this year is a mystery.

Mr Tebbs before going to church sent us in the three sermons of Arthur Perrhyn [Penrhyn] Stanley on the inspiration of the Scriptures, and we read the two first with great interest, and I have no doubt we shall find the third equal to the others. Whatever may be said of the darkness of the signs of these latter days, one thing at least it is pleasant to see; that Christians occupying the most prominent positions are becoming more charitable in their views, are taking broader and higher grounds, and are aiming at a nobler, a purer, and a more active Christian life. This fact ought to afford us some consolation for the terrible war which is ravishing one hemisphere and threatening the other. Mr & Mrs Tebbs with their daughter Signori Campazzi and Cochetti spent the evening with us. Poor Mr Tebbs has suddenly become so deaf that it is almost impossible to converse with him. I hope it is only temporary; he is really too much of a saint to need afflictions of any kind.

Our bright sunshine, which left us about a week ago does not come back. It is not cold enough to really to require a fire, but the dampness makes very warm clothing most comfortable.

A rainy scirocco shuts us all up still, but the graces & the volante furnish amusement & exercise for those who require them, and it is a grand thing for those who wish to work - this exclusion of outsiders.

Windows and doors were rattling, and shutters flapping all night in something very like a gale. The scirocco drove the rain against the windows with such force that we were threatened with an inundation indoors. Our Milanese fellow guests, who are not very familiar with the sea, were not a little frightened to see it come roaring up to the very road, and seriously proposed migrating from the second to the third story of the Stabilimento for fear the Mediterrenean would really pour in at their windows. For a novice the idea was not so strange, for it really actually seemed sometimes as if the whole ocean was rolling in with the force of a cataract. The water is yellow with the wash from the torrents for a mile or more beyond the shore. Early in the morning we had heavy thunder but it lasted only a little while. Mr Marsh went out in the midst of the storm to examine the swollen torrents which are pouring down through the valleys - Altogether it is a grand sight outside, but we cannot sit near enough to the windows to enjoy it, for though by no means cold the dampness of the wind, and the spray it drives in, make it too chilly to do so. We have no fire, though I confess I should not object to one were it not that the natives assure us that we are better off without it, that it would soon become indispensable, that we should then lose the benefit of a fine climate etc.

We have this morning American papers to the 23rd. Burnside assumes the whole responsibility of the Fredricksburg attack. The manly statement he makes, the heroic assumption to himself of the blame, if blame there is, are in glowing contrast with the dark hints of the shirkings and the shrinkings of his predecessor in command. It seems certain (though he does not say so himself) that if Burnside had received his pontoons when he had a right to expect them his success would have been complete. With such an officer we may look for a different campaign another spring even if no more can be done this winter. The Cabinet Crisis has ended in smoke, and perhaps it is at [as] well. It may be that a change at this moment would not have been wise, but it is to be hoped that History will be discriminating enough to point out the man or men who are really responsible for the half-way measures that have cost us so much blood and treasure and inflicted such suffering upon other countries as well as our own.

Carrie went to Genoa to-day to make the Valerios a visit, Mr Delaplaine of N.Y. brought a letter of introduction from our good friend Lippitt of Vienna. Mr Delaplaine, if I don’t misjudge him, is a young man of fashion & fortune, of fair abilities, but of no higher ambition than that of frequenting brilliant drawing-rooms. If our now acquaintance had allowed his easy and agreeable manner to testify as to his habitual associations he would have made a far more favorable impression than he did. But a certain nervous eagerness to sieze every occasion to speak of his intimacy with Mr Motley’s family at Vienna, of his free access to all the Dip. corps at that court - in short of his great acquaintances every where - gave him a snobbish air that greatly detracted from his otherwise gentlemanly bearing. - A lovely spring-like day - quite too warm for fire.

Rainy & chilly again - snow not far off on the hills I fancy. Prospect darkens as to a house in Turin - lowest offer yet being 15000 frcs per annum without any deduction in case of recall, change of seat of government etc.

Carrie came back from Genoa at 1/2. 12 with Alex__. the Valerios did not come on account of the rain. We read Dr Stanley’s third Sermon on the Inspiration of the scriptures - in the main admirable. In the evening the Tebbses were with us - saintly souls that they are.

Mr Marsh left for Turin at 4 P.M. Mr Strettell having made us a short visit first. An article in the London Times this morning on the very subject on which Mr Marsh is now preparing a book has made him a little nervous lest he might be anticipated. This would be rather hard when he has been studying the subject for so many years, and only being prevented by adverse circumstances from giving his thoughts upon it to the world long before. In this day however if a man has anything to say he must say it at once, or he is certain to be anticipated. This coincidence of thought for which our age is so remarkable reminds one constantly of the theory that ideas are floating about and strike on the mental vision in a sort of random way - affecting now this brain now that. One advantage will come of it, at least - our thinkers will be the more modest for it. The glory of the sunshine to-day atones for all the rain of the last week. Our thermometer is once more at 65 F. and we are full of the praises of Pegli.

Miss Tebbs & Carrie go to the Strettells to-day as they are to have a Charade party there to-night. I am glad to have C. join in these games which are no mean part of an education.

Mr. M. & Alex__ came back between 11&12 P.M. They had been to see Count Brasiers castle at Piobesi on the rail-way to Pignerolo, and think we may manage to be comfortable there through the summer at least. Mr M. proposes to take it from the first of March. The affairs of our country now look so gloomy that we have little courage to make arrangements for more than six months ahead. De Brasier went with Mr M. to show his castle, and on the way told some curious circumstances connected with the Greek Revolution which drove out the Bavarians & gave obtained the Constitution from the king. He attributes the movement & the execution of it to our old friend Kallurgi [Kallergis] and really makes out the general a thorough hero. - The Casa d’Angennes has just been the theatre of a new comic-tragedy. The man whom Mme de Saulmes has honored with the title of husband was taken very ill there and actually died. The bereaved widow - evil-speakers say acting in concert with Rattazzi - thought this a favorable moment to escape unnoticed, and accordingly, leaving the dead to bury their dead, she made her [illegible] plans to have a carriage ready at what she supposed a safe hour, and was just stepping into it when a policeman came up and told her she could not go. Then followed a scene - threats, persuasion, tears - All wouldn’t do. The Countess Gherardi’s agent was inexorable. Rattazza was sent for, but was equally unsuccessful in his efforts to compromise, At last he promised to be responsible for the rent due, but even this was not accepted till he gave a pledge in writing. Count de Brasier says the king himself told him that ‘Rattazzi was so infatuated by that woman that he was good for nothing.’ Mr M. had no talk this time with any one connected with the ministry except Spaventa a round, grave little man who does not look much as if he had lived so long in a Neapolitan prison.

This morning we decided to take the castle of the Count and are to take possession the first of March. Carrie, who came back from Genoa at three P.M., is delighted with the idea of living in a castle which has an old Roman tower attached to it - and had, besides, cloisters & a chapel. The fact that most of the present inhabitable part is modern does not greatly calm her imagination which revels in the prospect of haunted corridors, hid treasures etc. By the way, the Count says that when the present structure was built eighty thousand lire in gold were actually found buried in vessels of old Venetian glass.

We were rejoiced last night by the news that the Pres. had actually issued his Proclamation on the first of Jan. as he had promised, though many feared without the courage to perform. May this be the omen of better days for the Republic. This is again the third day of rain - we get on without fire, though I confess it would be more agreeable with it. The sky looks better however & I look for sunshine to-morrrow.

Alas for my reputation as a seer. Last evening I promised to be responsible for a fine day to-day - and lo! an east wind, the sky covered thickly and the rain falling fast! I sit in garments of humiliation - but I can’t help believing that if I had given the elements on which I based my calculation to any one of my craft he would have come to the same conclusion that I did. After a three days rain from the east & south, the wind changed to west and Northwest, the clouds were soon swept away, and at 1/2 past 10 we went to bed, a northwest wind blowing briskly, the stars shining gloriously. At seven this morning the wind was in the east again, and we are now apparently at the beginning of another three days spell.

The weather is so bad that even our church-going friends, the Tebbs, could not get to Genoa for services. The reports from the St Gotthard are most distressing - whole villages buried by avalanches In one instance near Aivrola more than thirty lives have been lost, and only seven of the bodies have been found. Many other persons have perished in the vicinity, and the destruction of cattle is very serious At Locarno, on L. Maggiore, a church-roof was crushed in, last sunday, by the [illegible] weight of the snow and forty seven persons killed - all women & girls with the exception of one old man. Even in Turin there has been a great alarm about roofs. One house roof has fallen in, the beautiful new wine market has been crushed, and more accidents are feared. The workmen employed to clear the roofs & streets have had a strike declaring they would no longer do this severe & dangerous work for a franc - 20cts. a day - when the proprietors of the houses had tripp tripled their rents and when the cost of living was so greatly increased for the poor man as well as for the rich. It is a comfort to see these poor down-trodden creatures beginning to understand their rights and getting to assert them.

It seems to me I have never seen a lovlier day. After so long a rain we looked for a cold north wind to bring a clear sky - this morning was without a cloud, but so still that not a leaf moved. And now at 3 P.M. our room is like summer & the invalids are all sunning themselves out-doors on the beach or in the gardens. Carrie has been with Mrs Tebbs to pay the Baroness Gautier a visit at the Villa Doria & has come back full of enthusiasm about the charming Baroness and her charming apartment and the wonderful garden with its oranges its camellias etc. By the way we are glad to know the the Gautiers have a summer villa near our castle at Piòbesi, - what a name! It must have been bestowed by some old Hun or Vandal before he was had been [illegible] converted to Christianity.

Mr Field & Mr Vincent from the U.S. came here this morning, both clergymen I think - the latter I am sure is. He is in the worst of health. Poor man - he had been obliged to pass some weeks in England & Scotland lately, and he is as full of indignation as a Christian can be at the spirit generally manifested towards our country in this her day of darkness. If it is true that adversity teaches us who our reall real friends are we need be at no loss how to class Great Brittain after this. Mr Field is from Illinois an instructor, and, I fancy, preacher besides, at any rate he is earnest & intelligent. He says he amused himself and his English fellow guests at the hotel sunday eve by reading to them Mrs Stowes late letter to the women of England. Mr F. is on his way to Palestine. - The Opinione to-day gives an account of another fearful avalanche which the other day buried a whole village not far from Domodossala. More than eighty persons perished. Our visitors who left Turin saturday says that there was at least 2 feet of snow in the neighbourhood - that at La Tour it was much deeper and Dr Malan told them that the valley was full of anxious hearts dreading every moment the thunder and the crash of the avalanche. They also say that when they entered the tunnel a few miles north of Genoa the whole face of the country was thickly covered with snow and wore in all respects the aspect of a severe winter. 7 minutes after, they emerged from the tunnel, - an almost tropical landscape was spead [spread] out before them, bathed in a soft scirocco and golden with ripe oranges. - They looked at the roses and narcissuses which Alex. had just brought me from the garden with evident wonder.

To-day we have had one of those spring days which, more than ever wine or oil, make glad the heart of man. But the bounding of the pulses, which such an atmosphere, such a sky and such scenery cause in the young, is kept down in us who are older by ever mutiplying memories of loss upon loss, loss upon loss. Since the first day like this last spring the brightest of the rising stars in my horizon has passed forever out it until it shall broaden into eternity. There may I, and those to whom its setting was like the going-down of the noonday-sun, behold it again safe forever from every dimming sorrow from every darkening eclipse. - This evening Mr Campazzi told us a good deal of the history of Ausonio Franchi now professor of the History of Philosophy or the Philosophy of History - I can’t say which it is, as he has at different times filled both chairs - in the University of Pavia. Francesco Bonavino was the name of this great thinker while he was still a priest - a priest in good faith, an enthusiast as sincere as St. Francis d’Assisi. Then came doubts which, says Campazzi, ‘shook him like a tempest’. His struggle was long and terrible, shattering his health, but not impairing the force of his intellect. At last he renounced every thing of his former self, even his very name, & and [sic] adopted the Rationalism of the Germans - that school so preeminently lacking in the most divine of human attributes - humility. Would to God this great man, so pure in heat & life had fallen upon something better. See Monnier’s accounts of him, p. 362, L’Italie est-elle etc.

I had an ahnung as the Germans say that Mrs Valerio would be tempted to come down to us by the lovely bright weather, and I was not mistaken. She came about one, and passed two or three hours with us - looks very ill, but was lively and amusing. She spoke of her letters from home as being still cheerful in their tone as to the prospects of the Country. Heaven knows where they see anything bright. The glow doesn’t extend to this hemisphere at any rate. She rather interested us by her account of Asproni - a well-known republican, and great friend of Lorenzo Valerio. I enjoyed Mrs Valerio’s visit as I always do, for she is full of bright thoughts, but it is a sad pity that her nerves are so shattered, and a greater one still that she has received so mistaken an education.

These journey to Turin come so often. Mr Marsh is again on his way there, not without much grumbling. It breaks in sadly upon his work and he really might do all the business of the Legation here, just as well as there, except when it is necessary to see the Ministry. Since the whole work devolves on him it does seem rather hard that he cannot be allowed to do it in the way most convenient to himself. If our government would make it a point to send men abroad who have consciences, it would not be necessary to bind them by petty regulations.

Mr Marsh came home at nine this evening with the usual budget of bad news from America, and none very good from any quarter. We are not likely to get possession of our Castle I fear before the first of April. The Count promises it for the middle of March -, but as workmen are to be sent there on the first of March, I know too well how much waiting this implies. The resignation of Ricci is regretted, but De Negro is to take his place. No more changes talked of Just now. The Duchess left Genoa for Naples yesterday, the new Prefetto, Marchese d’Afflitto going with her suite. We had a pleasant visit from the Baron and Baroness Gautier this afternoon. They are both much interested in American politics.

The bad news from America or something else quite knocked me up last night, and I was really so ill as to fear being obliged to send for a physician - a hard alternative for me. This morning I feel better, and I hope two or three days more will release me from the imprisonment I have suffered for the last ten days, not having been strong enough to go down to dinner during that time. The weather is beyond all praise, and makes even me so used to confinement as I am, long to get out. This evening the Duchesse De La Force’s maid brought a huge bouquet of camelias, red, white, and variagated, just gathered from her garden. It was indeed a feast to the eye.

Carrie and I, after hurrying through lessons, spent a good part of the day trying Ruskin’s experiments with water-colours, a labour just suited to my present capacity and my position in bed. Such a sunset as I enjoyed while the rest were at dinner more than compensated me for a solitary meal. I certainly never have seen finer sunsets than one sees here.

Carrie took a long walk with Mrs Tebbs and the Signori, Ca as far as the asbestos mountain. The Spring flowers are already out in the warm nooks of the valleys - the primrose, the sweet-violet, &c. Mr Marsh did not go out feeling quite feverish, partly no doubt from a long rapid walk in the sun yesterday. He insisted however that he was well enough to sit by my bedside and read to me for an hour, which he did from that terrible book of Michelet - La Sorcière. Such a story at that of the poor La Cadiere makes one ask in wonder why God does not blast his Adam with the lightnings of heaven rather than suffer the earth to be polluted with such crimes.

‘Un giorno di Paradise’ says Alexander and so it is. I shall leave the Riviera with a great heartache little as I have albe [able] to enjoy any thing except what I can see from my windows. But who could ask for more - the great and ever-changing sea, directly before us, the light-house of Genoa crowning the first head-land on our left while something of the proud city herself may be seen, promontory after promontory stretching out on our right until we almost seem to see Nice itself - then behind us such hills & valleys such gardens and orange-orchards as one sees in one’s young dreams. A letter from Mme De Bunsen this morning gives me an account of Turin gayities gaieties - thank heaven, that in the present condition of our poor country, I am out of the way of all concern in them. Even if I had the strength for such a life I could not have the heart for it now.

My imprisonment in my chamber lasts longer than usual this time & I particularly regret it as we had planned a drive towards [illegible] Savona to-day, and the most brilliant & soft of spring-days is tempting us. But it is out of the question I find on trying to dress so I must content myself with watching C. at her water-colors, only giving now & then a glance at the bright, ‘the innumerable laughter’ of the sea which threatens to blind us but which we can’t bear to shut it out. - To-day we received some books from England - among them the Life of Bishop Bowen. What a blessing it is to have known such a man!

Little change within-doors or without - the most perfect of days with not strength enough to go out to enjoy it. But with Mr M’s & C,s help I manage to occupy myself even on my bed - for I am so far on the way out of it.

Made my way to the drawing-room to-day, and was comfortable on the sofa all day. Was able, too, to look over a to look ov little of Mr M - s mss.

Mr Wheeler & Mrs Valerio drove out to us for a couple of hours, Mr W. enjoyed his trip to Naples, as every man with eyes & ears must, immensely. Mrs V. was as bright as ever and more rational than often - likes “Down among the Pines” extremely and is to bring it to me. - We read Franchi after they left. He is lacking in good taste, does not understand the Philosophy of Protestantism which he pretends to explain, but he is clear & logical, if you admit his premises, in the narrow path into which he has as yet taken us.

The rain of sat. & yesterday made the roads too wet for the pleasant drive to which better health & returned sunshine invite me. Occupation, however, is abundant within-doors. Letters, lessons, mss. etc etc.

Carrie and I took Mr Marsh to Genoa in a carriage, on his way to Turin. The air was soft and delicious, the sea and the hills most beautiful to behold. Sestri and Cornigliano were full of industrious activity, and Genoa herself could hardly have looked more busy in the proudest days of the Republic. Here at least the Italians are not lazy. Having some spare time we drove a little out of the city toward the Levante, returned and took a look at the new monument to Colombus, which in some respects is very fine, left Mr Marsh at the station, and returned home in time for dinner - As we turned the lighthouse point on our way back, I thought I had never seen anything finer than the broad sweep of the bay before us, held in the embrace of promontory after promontory, headland after headland, and overlooked by hills so beautiful in form and vegetation. The glimpses one gets into the valleys by looking up the torrent beds, are enchanting.

The weather was so showery this morning that Mrs Valerio could not come to us as had been arranged, so Carrie and I amused ourselves with hard work. In the evening Signor Campazzi came to give her a lesson, but somehow we fell into a discussion of Franchi’s rationalism, his explanation of Protestantism &c., and it was half past nine before we thought of it. My Italian was by no means equal to my subject, but I got on with it better than I could have believed, and Signor Campazzi seemed to understand my meaning. He spoke with great frankness of his own religious difficulties, and I could not help profoundly regretting that he could not read English, as I am sure I could give him some English books that would give him a clearer notion of the religious philosophy of Protestantism than he now possesses. He clings to Crestianity [Christianity] still, though harassed at times by doubts and difficulties. It is a pity that the Italian Roman Catholic, when he first begins to think, has

nothing to read but the works of the rationalists.

Mrs Valerio spent the day with us - partly in reading: ‘Down among the Pines’, to me - It is curious to see how perfectly the South understood the New York statesman - I never had but one conversation with him, and up to that period I had believed Mr Marsh, who constitutionally forms rapid and decided judgments, to be somewhat unjustly - prejudiced against him. After that conversation of fifteen minutes I believe I never apologized again for the great apostle of Anti-Slavery. Mrs Valerio’s letters from New York are depressing, Democracy is rampant, dissention is increasing, pride of Country dying out, and a disposition everywhere to have peace even on terms which must forever leave us disgraced in the eyes of the civilized world. May Heaven avert such a consummation! We were much interested in R.H. Dana’s account of the Hindostanee’s bequest in token of his sympathy in the Northern cause. The anecdote of poor Captain Wainwright’s noble boy is most touching, but I should have expected as much from his father’s son.

Mr March took a long walk after writing some twenty pages of manuscript for his new book. He stumbled upon a copper foundary [foundry] far up the Varenna valley, and made an engagement with the workmen to go on Monday with Mrs Tebbs and the girls to see the casting. He was much interested

by the mode in which the beat out the thin copper vessels so much in use here. He reports the hill-sides literally carpeted with flowers. Carrie did not go with him being deep in water-colours when invited. Mr Tebbs gave us this evening an amusing anecdote of Lord Brougham., A friend who had given him the lives of the Lord Chancellors, written by a personal enemy of his lordship, (who of course knew that the author was only waiting for him to die before adding him to the list) and afterwards enquired how he liked the book. “It adds another pang to death,” said the witty old Lord.

This morning we have home papers and letters again, all blue enough. There is a letter of the President addressed to Gen. McClellan while the latter was in the Peninsula which I trust will somewhat damage this mock hero in his prospects for the next Presidency - supposing the Republic to survive long enough to witness another election. A letter from this side the water has made us laugh in spite of the grave character of those from the other side. Some person or persons in Geneva are professing to be about publishing a new and very choice biographical dictionary. - They have been teasing Mr Marsh for the last year to give them some facts and dates with regard to his own personal history. At last to get rid of their importunities he wrote some half-dozen lines, giving a few dates etc. etc. Now he has a letter acknowledging the reception, and intimaitimating [intimating] that they shall fill up the skeleton in terms more or less comonendatory [commendatory] according to the sum of money he may be pleased to send them. For a hundred and fifty francs they will make it respectable, - for five hundred, it shall be very handsome, and occupy so much space - for a thousand they will pile on the superlatives, and give him several pages!! I pretended to take the matter seriously and asked him what he should do? He looked at me with such an expression of reproachful astonishment that I could hardly keep my countenance till he had said - “If I cant go down to posterity without paying for it, I’ll stay here.” After this I did not feel bound to preserve my gravity. Our friends, the Tebbses were not a little amused when we told them this evening the story of the ’Immortality Office.”

We divided the day between Dr. Stanley’s History of the Jewish Church, and Ausonio Franchi’s Religion of the nineteenth century. The latter is most successful as a sharp-shooter at the Romish Church, but he has by no means the breadth or the learning of the Englishman. Dr S__‘s sketch of Abraham is very fine, that of Jacob inferior to Robertson on the same subject. He expresses what would once have been called most unorthodox opinions with regard to the inspiration of the Old Testament, but while he does so in the plainest terms, he still preserves very carefully such phrases as the ’sacred record,’ ‘sacred narrative,’ etc. This serves to relieve the shock that some persons might otherwise feel, on reading his book, and we are amused to find our most excellent friend, Mr Tebbs, quite satisfied with Dr. Stanley, while he condemns Bishop Colenso for ‘digging under the ancient foundations’ as he calls it. In the evening Signor Cocchetti came in with the Tebbses, but we did not renew the discussion which I should have mentioned having taken place last evening, which both Campazzi and Cocchetti passed with us. I tried to connect some of Signor Cocchetti’s false impressions, with regard to Protestantism but I found it next to impossible. His idea of our religion is a very ugly one, though, if he but knew it, he thinks almost precisely with us. Transubstantiation he holds to be a fiction well enough suited to the gross conceptions of an ignorant peasantry, the celibacy of the priesthood he condemns utterly, indulgences no less, and the temporal power of the pope he declares to be demoralizing and pernicious. With all this, he loves his Church, but says he does not believe according to its teachings with regard to all outside its pale - Protestant or Pagan - namely, that there is no possible salvation for them. I asked him if this was generally believed by Roman Catholics. “Oh, yes”, he said, “most of those who believe anything, believe that,” and he told Mrs Tebbs that even our charming acquaintance the Baroness Gautiers, with all her intelligence and culture, and with all her sweet gentleness of manner towards us, sighed to think that we were all inevitably doomed to a most uncomfortably climate in the next world.

Mr Marsh took a large party up the Varenna to the copper foundery [foundry] this afternoon. I was looking for a good many hours for myself, but Mrs Valerio and Mrs Sada broke in unexpectedly upon my solitude., Instead of the meditation hours which I was anticipating I had an hour or two of practice in speaking Italian of which I was very glad. La Signora Sada seems very amiable and, what is remarkable here, is not ashamed to own that she is fond of her husband, and unhappy when his business takes him from her, but was surprised to learn that we had no nobility in the United States, and couldn’t imma imagine how we could get on without it. This piece of information was given her accidentally through Mrs Valerio’s mist mistaking nubile for nobile. The walkers came back very tired and Miss Tebbs and Carrie brought the little Strettells to stay all night as the poor children were so tired fatigued

Giacchino and Alec. took Carrie into Genoa for photograph, shopping etc., and we old crones stayed at home book-making. We had an hours visit from Mrs Strettell who is always wide awake, and she took the children home.

We drove this afternoon to Arranzano [Arenzano], some eight miles on the Nice road, The day was very bright, and the view charming, but there was a chill in the North wind which made me tremble for the almond trees now in full flower. The railroad-work has recommenced beyond Voltri, and between that town and Arranzano much progress has been made. It seemed to us as if putting the short tunnels together, nearly half the track must be underground, and I could not help thinking how strangely it must strike the first travellers over it when the whole track should be completed. One must feel as if vibrating like a pendulum between the realms of Pluto and the Fields of Paradise, - one moment in the blackness of darkness - then in the rich gardens of the Riviera with the blue Mediterrenean on one hand, and the pure sky of Italy over one’s head, but before the eye can recover from its first dazzle, all will be darkness again, and so on hour after hour Fantasic as must be the effect of such railway travelling, we could not help bitterly lamenting the semi-destruction of this most beautiful of carriage roads, which is already much damaged by the rail-roadway operations, frequently crossed by its track, so much of which lies parallel to it that when once the steam-carriages are running it will be unsafe to drive with horses not accustomed to the sight and the noise of the locomotive.

Mrs Wheeler came to spend a few hours with us, bringing her two oldest boys. She comes out wonderfully on acquaintance, and with a little time and opportunity for improvement she will soon show that she has capacity for it. She has an abundance of good sense, and a degree of personal beauty that would be remarkable if she had the manner and the money to set it off. I took her to the upper terrace of the house where I have never been before myself. The cold wind of yesterday had died away and the air was as soft as on a June day in New England. As I looked east-ward toward the lighthouse point which partially hides Genoa, then at the grand headland beyond the city, then at the sweep of the hills forming a semi-circle from east by north to west, I felt such a longing to take my pencil in my hand once more, that the tears came to my eyes quite unawares.,

This morning occurred another curious instance of the peculiar way in which business transactions are carried on in Italy. Among the many houses we had been negotiating for this winter is that belonging to the d’ Azeglio family. We sent Alec. to enquire the terms. He assured us that it would not be rented for less than fifteen thousand francs annually, and not for a shorter period than two years, that the Marchese, and the agent were both very decided that these were their last terms. I persuaded Mr Marsh however to request Mr Artoni to offer 12.000 frs., thinking that if this was accepted as there were rooms enough for the Legation, and for Mr Clay and Mr Artoni, it would be better than anything we were likely to do. Mr Artoni brought the same answer as Alec. had done, and of course we gave the thing up. Now, two months later, we receive a letter saying that we can have the house if we wish it - and this just after we have taken, and paid the rent of a house in the country at an inconvenient distance, and with the probability of being obliged to leave it at the end of six months, or a year at best. A similiar affair happened the other day. Count Villa marina, who had written a note with his own hand to say that the price of the apartment would be 18,000 frs. sent us word that we might have it for twelve. These things are excessively trying to the patience of Englishmen or Americans. Mrs Valerio drove down from Genoa and passed most of the day with us. She brought a photograph of poor Maj. Sedgwick a fine brave-looking fellow. Mrs V. with much that is attractive, makes me constantly feel what a pity it is for such fine powers should be useless for want of thorough education in some directions, and perverted by a false one in others. Her cousin, Miss Jane Sedgwick, a pervert now in Rome, has evidently obtained great influence over her by assuming to possess, (and no doubt really supposing she does possess) reads a vast deal of ecclesiastical learning. O for some educator to arise who should be able to make his pupils understand something of the nature of true learning - who could point out to them some of the innumerable storehouses of knowledge, on every conceivable subject, into to which they can never hope to penetrate. The greatest need we have now in the way of teachers seems to me to be a class whose business shall be to teach people how ignorant they are and ever must be on almost every subject to which they cannot devote their lives. We should then have less of that flippant impertinence which assures you. “__ knows every thing that is to be said on both sides, she has thoroughly examined the subject etc.” In one instance of this kind I longed to say to Mrs V. ’my dear friend, neither of us three - your cousin, you or I - is any more capable of deciding questions of ecclesiastical history or doctrinal criticism than we are of demonstrating the truth of the Newtonian Theory, or of showing up its falseness. Nor can we ever hope to be in this life even if we were to devote what remains of it to this subject alone. We have not had - and no woman in our country has had - the necessary previous training. The required knowledge is not within our reach - we lack the discipline to make use of it, if it were.” Then I recollected that such an assertion would carry no conviction with it and I was silent.

It was necessary for Mr M. to go to Turin to-day, & and [sic], as is usual on such days, much of it was lost.

Carrie could not read aloud on account of a severe cold, and I was obliged to make a meditation-day of it. The Baroness Gautier dined with us and we passed the evening pleasantly in the common salon.

Mr Marsh returned at three, well but not in very good spirits. The news from America seems to him very discouraging although I cannot quite see it so myself. The Democrats have certainly not grown strong since the last news, and I dread them far more than the open rebels. He reports the Carnival as very brilliant. Among the many magnificent cars was an Africa triumphant - a large platform, borne by six horses, on which were growing palm trees, banannas, etc. On it, too, were standing some of the first nobility of Turin disguised as Africans, wearing liberty-caps etc. This was no doubt in compliment to President Lincoln’s proclamation. One of the masks was in the dress of a Southern slave wearing a broad coarse Palmetto There were many other cars of a very expensive and showy character. The wine-dealers had one in the form of a huge champaign basket into which were loaded wine casks of every shape gaily painted and gilded. On these were seated some dozen persons each wearing on his head what seemed to be a large champaign bottle gaudily labelled. The photographers had also their car which was in excellent taste and must have been very expensive. There was an infinite amount of gaity and no less good-humour. It is wonderful how these Italians manage to get on without the least quarreling under circumstances where an English or American crowd would be in a row at once.

Carrie went to Genoa to see the Carnival with Mrs Valerio. Here it was a very sorry affair. She returned at eight and reported the Genoa carnival, too, a failure. The Prefet had forbidden the throwing of Confetti, but also interfered with a demonstration in favour of the Polish revolution, and so the people pouted.

The usual work and the usual walk filled up the day without any occurrence of particular interest.

We have now further details of the news from American of the 5th, and are glad to find it does not look so bad. The affair of Charleston is of no great importance - far more than outweighed by other small successes, and the election of Gov. Morgan to the Senate is a most important triumph over the Democracy. On the whole things look a little more hopeful.

C. & I occupied ourselves desperately all day try ing to outdo Mrs Tebbs in painting an orange truly in water-colors. I ground the paints and advised while C. operated. Our success was not discouraging.

Alas for mortal ambitions! Our triumph in the affair of the orange has cost C. an attack of inflamation of the eyes and we are both of us compelled to utter idelness to-day - I in bed she by the side of it.

All day we read - that is Mr Mr. read to us - Stanley’s History of the Jewish Church - most interesting, but not so very orthodox and nor so very Churchman-like. Towards evening Baron Gautier came in, and later the mysterious Gen. Haug, with a friend from Sweden. All three of our visitors think trouble in Naples imminent. Some persons predict that V.E. Rex. will abdicate soon in d order to pursue his own tastes with less restraint. Prince Umberto is very popular, but very young and in danger of falling into bad hands. Poor Italy seems doomed to a new relapse and a new convulsion.

The breakdown in the family has become so complete and so general that Mr Marsh alone pretends to do anything today, and even he is a little threatened with erysipelas. Our good friend Mr Tebbs however has thriven so well under our prescription of Dover’s powder that he is once more able to go down to dinner. After suffering several days from severe cough, great difficulty of breathing and sleeplessness, (during all which time he stoutly resisted everything in the form of opium, from principle,) I at last luckily suggested a Dover’s powder as ‘a simple old English medicine composed chiefly of ipecac’. Both he and Mrs Tebbs remembered that it was much used in England, and quite innocent. We sent it in, and the good man slept quietly and found himself much refreshed in the morning by the rest. Towards evening he complained of some langour, and of still more the night following, but Mr Marsh sent him a little Bourbon Whisky, which set him quite right again. We had a quiet laugh between ourselves over the pious fraud we had practiced, and have now the satisfaction of seeing our poor friend quite comfortable, whereas three days ago he really seemed as if he might sink away at any moment.

The London Times, the Record etc., are much taken up, next to the Polish rebellion, with the prosecution of Rev. Mr Jowitt [Jowett]. Dr Pusey writes, Maurice replies, Dr Pusey writes again, a Protestant reponds vehemently, M__. from Baliol [Balliol] speaks even more warmly - in fact the controversy waxes hot. The Record attacks Dr Stanley with some effect, but with more want of fairness - on the whole a storm seems brewing likely to shake the Church of England to its very foundations.

England shows her characteristic selfishness, and at the same time a certain generous natural impulse, in the course she is taking in the affair of Poland. She blames Russia, scolds Prussia soundly, and thinks France would do well to make a war in this great course of humanity. Of course she couldn’t do anything herself that would endanger her national peace, or, to interpret her fairly, her pecuniary prosperity, but why shouldn’t France? Isn’t it a noble cause? The Italian papers comment playfully but shrewdly upon this barefaced egotism of English statesmen, - who They threaten Prussia with Napoleon and Garibaldi, but intimate clearly that they intend to keep out of the mess. Count Stackelberg payid Mr Marsh a visit this morning. He is trying to engage a Villa in Pegli for the summer. This is the second time Mr Marsh has seen the Russian Minister, and on the whole he likes him. The poor man lost his wife some he years ago in Turin when he was Minister there for the first time. We have often heard her spoken of there as being one of the most beautiful women ever seen at that capital, and a fine character. The Count was so crushed by her death that he resigned and left Turin at once; he returns after several years, but his former acquaintances say only a wreck of himself, and each time that he has seen Mr Marsh he has spoken of the overwhelming calamity that befel him while in Italy before, and of the indifference with which he now regards life, except for the sake of his children. We Anglo-Saxons must admit that even Russians are sometimes capable of strong domestic attachments.

Rather better news from America this week, and Mr Marsh would have left for Turin in better spirits than usual had he not been somewhat indisposed. I hope the journey may do him good, though he finds these frequent rail-road trips very disagreeable.

This morning an American boy announced himself as wishing to see Mr Marsh. I sent for him, and a young slender-looking lad apparently in bad health came in. He told me that he had been travelling with Mr Hunt, as his valet, that he had met with a severe accident in Naples - broken his back, as he expressed it - and that after being confined more than three months in the hospital he was now trying to get hime. His pale face, hollow eyes, and evident weakness confirmed the story of his illness. I asked how the accident happened. “I was larking ma’am,” was his tremulous answer. ‘Larking’?, I said, ‘what’s that?’ ‘Me and an English valet, ma’am, we were larking, and I fell in trying to jump some high bars.” The tears were trembling in the eye of the poor boy as he said this, or I should certainly have laughed. He went on to tell me that Mr Hunt was obliged to leave him at Naples, but that he treated him most kindly, took him to the Protestant hospital, made arrangements for paying all his expenses while there, and gave him a hundred and fifty francs besides. He spoke gratefully too, of Mrs Wilson, the English matron of the hospital. With the money given him by Mr Hunt he had come as far as Turin. Here Mr Clay gave him five francs to take him to Genoa, and from Mr Marsh to hoped to get enought to take him to Nice, where he would find a friend and relative in Mr Slade, the consul. Through his aid he expected to get to Paris, and there he was sure Dr McClintock, who had already befriended him when there before, would be able to give him advice and aid. I do not know how much of imposture there may be in this story, but it was told with such a simple unconscious pathos that I have seldom been more moved. Then too he was so frank in stating the amount with which he could manage to reach Nice. ’But,’ I said, ‘will eight francs give you a bed on the steamer?’ ’Oh no,” he answered, “but I could get on with a deck passage.” His lips quivered while he was speaking, and he seemed very grateful when I told him that I should give him enough to have a comfortable bed which he certainly needed. He stated his age at nineteen - much older than he really looked - and gave his name as Henry Green, his father and family now living in Bath, Maine.

I was prevented from going to Genoa to meet Mr Marsh by the combined opposition of a high wind and a headache. He came at four, and brought news of the dangerous illness of Mr Sartiges. The Ministry seem to get on without serious difficulty, the sinistra being by no means numerous or powerful. There is a wide-spread dissatisfaction, however, throughout most parts of Italy with the government generally. The House of Savoy, at least so far as the present King is concerned, has lost much of its hold on the affections of the new kingdom, and the Republican element is said to be gathering strength. With the undisguised hostility of all the governments of Europe, and Gret Britain besides, against republics, there is little hope that any good will grow out of this fresh impulse in the Republican direction. Victor Emmanuel is certainly not all that one could desire in a King, but he honestly adheres to the Constitution in spite of bad advice, he is brave, and generous, and it will be an evil day that sees his people rise against him. There seems to be but [illegible] two choices for Italy now - to submit with as much dignity as possible to the course France has taken, or to defy her. With the first the people are not satisfied, and as to the second they admit it would be madness. In the meantime they grumble because their rulers do not find out some impossible third course by means of which they shall get Rome, retain the friendship of France, force Austria to give up Venetia, and quiet disaffection everywhere. - I must note here a new proof of the depravity of human nature in addition to the many already adduced from the time of the Fathers down. No sooner had I bestowed my twenty francs upon the pale, hollow-eyed trembling invalid who had broken his back while larking with his English friend, than instead of embarking for Nice as he pretended was his intention, he went straight back to Turin, and arrived in time to catch Mr Marsh while still there. He was equally successful in his imposition upon him, though the liveliness of his imagination led him to invent a different story for the occasion. When we compared notes we had a hearty laugh at our own expense - and yet after all, it is always painful to find ones’ self decieved in this way by one so young, and it is sometimes a temptation to refuse to give in cases where there is a real need of charity.

We read Stanley all day, Carrie having gone to church with the Tebbses. The controversy between Jowitt, Pusey etc grows hot. The best letter I have seen is one from Dr. Close, witty and good-tempered. The Athenæum contains some startling revelations with regard to Dr Pusey and his twenty eight Protestant nunneries especially that of Miss Sellon.

The Baron and Baroness Gautiers, the Strettells the Tebbses, and we, together with the young people made an excursion up the valley of the Acqua Santa, - a drive of an hour and a half from our Stabilimento. It is a lovely valley even at this season, but in summer when its magnificent chestnut orchards are in leaf it must be most exquisite. We enjoyed our holiday extremely, especially those of the party who were able to walk. Several of them came home over the hills quite to Pegli and were not over-tired either. The Strettells staid all night, and we had some amusing games, though the absence of the Signori Cocchetti and Campazzi reduced our numbers too much for a great success in this way.

Mrs Valerio came at one, and Mr Marsh and I took her to drive a little beyond Voltri. The day was even more perfect than yesterday, and I never saw any part of the Riviera look more enchanting. We longed to go on to Arranzano, but Mrs V__ . was obliged to return for the train at four. She says her friends write a little more hopefully from New York, but we cannot see much here to encourage us as to the fate of our Country. I was glad to get an opportunity of bringing Mrs Valerio and the Strettells together; it may do something to save her from the influence of that half-educated cousin of hers at Rome. Mr S__ . is a man for whom one’s respect is increased by every interview. He is a much more liberal man than I supposed him at first. He speaks of Dr. Maurice as one of his most intimate friends. His affection for his little Alma is very touching, and when I see father and child together there rises a half involuntary aspiration that they may never be separated as so many parents and children have been.

This morning we have a scirocco, and it looks a little as if the spring rains were about to set in. Mr Marsh and Carrie were driven back from an intended visit to the Baroness by a fast sprinkle, which a severe sore throat made it necessary for Mr Marsh to escape from. This was the only interruption of our book and manuscript work. There has been an arrival at the Stabilimento today of two families.

The rain has fairly set in, and we have had no temptation to play out doors today. At the dinner-table we found our little company of five or six, swelled to sixteen - generally nice-looking people. Our quiet life here is evidently over, but I regret d the change the less as we are so soon to leave ourselves. The damp weather has given Mr Marsh so severe a sore throat that, external remedies having failed, I put him in bed early this evening, with a Dover’s powder. We are now twenty days without news from America except a stupid paragraph from the World. It was a bitter disappointment to get nothing this evening. The Polish Revolution, if one can judge any thing from the journals, is rather gaining strength than otherwise. The French and English, particularly the latter, continue to bluster at Russia and Prussia, but if they can once accomplish their own selfish ends they will let the Poles get out of the difficulty as they can. The French Empress, having succeeded in inducing the Emperor to throw away the noblest opportunity a sovereign ever had to give the whole world a great onward and upward movement, is trying to coax him to allow her to go to Rome for the Pope’s blessing, and to secure the Order of the Rose, with which His Holiness sometimes honours such of his faithful daughters as wear crowns. It is said that the Emperor refuses to permit the Prince Imperial to accompany her on this pilgrimage, and that she will not go without him. She will [illegible] probably get her will in time, as she has so often done before in more important matters. There is a rumour today that the Greeks are making one more effort to get a King, that they are getting up signatures in favour of Prince Carignano. I hope they may be fortunate enough to get him. Every body speaks well of him, and he looks and conducts like a man of dignity, good sense and good principle. Kossuth is out with a new manifesto on the political condition of Europe, but his dreams have little or no influence over anyone.

Mr M. was not well enough to work to-day and we dawdled away the morning as the English say. I left him to dine on a plate of soup by himself and joined the increased company at the table d’hôte. An English colonel with a Danish wife & motherinlaw interested me very much. The lady wife herself is most pleasing, the mother very much of a lady, but the gentleman of has an air of refinement, good taste, and thorough consideration for others that one rarely finds in any man, and most rarely in an Englishman. The picture this party gave us of Nice this season was any thing but attractive. In addition to the deaths from burning, - caused by this detestable crinoline - of which we had already heard, they mentioned that of an American lady whose dress caught from her grate at mid-day while she was looking in a glass opposite. She rushed out of her room into an adjoining one, set fire to another lady who was in her night-dress, and before her husband who ran after her could extinguish the flames she was past saving. The lady in the night-dress was not seriously injured, but the husband of the victim, being previously in bad health, died soon after from the shock and the grief suffered.

Nothing noteworthy today. The bad weather kept us all in-doors, and Mr Marsh’s sore throat and inflamed eyes prevented him from work, and his lounging kept the rest of us idle, or nearly so. In the evening the Tebbses, Campazzi and Cocchetti passed an hour or two with us. Cocchetti explained to Mr Marsh how the great estates of Italy were kept together without the aid of the law of primo-geniture. The explanation is quite enough, with the celibacy of the priest-hood, to account for the vast and deep demoralization that prevails in the social life of this beautiful country.

We kept Carrie from Church this morning to read Dr Stanley to us which she did as long as her throat held out. While she was resting the Israelitsh deputy Levi came in to pay us a visit bringing with him his friend Filippi, also a friend of our friend Botta. Levi speaks much more hopefully of the prospects of Italy generally and especially of the Southern Provinces than do most of the very liberal Italians whom we meet. He says the aspect of things there is greatly improving, and though the Italian affairs in general are not going on in the right direction so fast as could be wished, yet they are making a steady progress, and that this generation must be content to pass away and leave the best fruits of their toil to those who shall come after them. Mr Strettell came down in the evening and we had service and sermon in the little saloon. Mr Strettell shows the same energy in performing those duties as a clergyman that he does in his walks and other physical exertions. With a felon on his finger, which had kept him awake all the previous night, and a bad sorethroat, having already held two services, he came down here for a third, and would have walked back to Genoa after nine o’clock, a distance of seven miles, if we had not entreated him most pressingly to stay here all night.

We had the pleasure this morning of opening a box of books from America. Mr Strettell came up from breakfast while we were in the midst of our pleasant task, and was much interested to see the American edition of Wedgewood [Wedgwood] who is an intimate friend of his. Many an old familiar face appeared among the volumes as we took them out, and some very promising new ones. A pile of back numbers of the Atlantic furnished us a rich feast and a merry laugh through some half dozen of the Biglow Papers not seen before. We shall send them to Mr Strettell who enjoys Lowell as thoroughly as the best Yankee.

The strong south-wind still continues, but it has swept every cloud from the heavens, and the day has been most charming. We have never seen the waves higher, and the effect of the sun on the water, changing constantly with its altitude, is marvellous. Sometimes it looks like an immense opal with the power of motion and the gift of utterance. A broad steel-blue band is its setting, and above it is a baldichino of amethyst and saphire. I have looked out on this sea till I am almost blinded, calling out to Mr Marsh from time to time, Oh come and see this huge wave, green as an emerald, as it comes rolling in - oh, now it is breaking, - curling into white foam - oh, now it is leaping up the rocks! - oh see another bound back from the Castle wall, the fine spray rising like a mist far above what once were its turrets!’ With open windows the roar is too loud to admit of talking to each other with ease. I am afraid I shall be homesick at Piobesi missing so much this ever-companionable sea. To me there is nothing in nature so living and so social as the ocean - next to it I think I love the clouds - and this compels me to give only a third place to the mountains - the mountains which my husband prefers to everything else in the natural universe except the sun and stars of heaven. Carrie came home just in time for dinner after a long walk with the Baroness and Miss Tebbs. The young ladies came back loaded with flowers and well-fruited orange-boughs - On a single small branch were five oranges, in themselves weighing as much as one person would would [sic] care to take on a walk for pleasure. They enjoyed the Doria gardens to the full. - We all united in drinking the health of the Prince and Princess of Wales. The Halketts showed us a photograph of the two in which the Princess certainly appears to much the best advantage. - In the evening Mrs Kerr or Kärr, the mother of Mrs Halkett, brought in the children to us, and spent some little time. We were glad to find that she knew many of our friends, among them the De Billes - the Garrigues - Mrs Christern, etc The latter had for some little time the charge of Mrs Halkett (they call her, the Baroness,) then Maggie Kerr. Mrs K__ speaks in the highest terms of the Garrigues. She also knows the Hochschilds well, and told us what we did not know before, that the Baron himself is a cousin of the Oxholms of Denmark. Speaking of the Princess Alexandra, (of whom she Mrs K_ says her daughter was an older playmate - ) and praising the careful manner in which she had been brought up, our new Danish friend told us that ‘she had never seen a newspaper in her life’! Alas, for princes and princesses! Until I came to Italy this tine [time] I had no conception of the infinite pains taken to prevent all royal children and youth from knowing anything of life as it really is. Treated like lap-dogs and fed on sugar only, how can one expect them to have any more intellect than these little canine specimens! Gianina Milli, the Sicilian, is having a splendid success at Turin as an improvisatrice. I have regretted none of their balls or theatricals this winter, public or private, but this is an entertainment which we miss with real pain. The mention of this Sicilian lady reminds me of a matinade given us this morning by three of four wild-looking Calabrese, with their steeple-crown-hats, and hair black as night. One had a bag-pipe from which he drew forth the well-known hurdy-gurdy squeaks, while the other three danced gaily, and did more than justice to the music. Around the hat of one of the dancers was a string of bells which had much the effect of the castanets, and when I opened the window they all uncovered their heads, and made a bow with a grace that would have done honour to any rank. Their whole dress was very picturesque, especially the sandals, and the white leggings which were made gay by the straps of the former which were crossed and recrossed of from the ankle to the knee - As they turned to go they touched their hats to me again, I suppose in token of acknowledgement for the little coin they had recieved.

After the finest day possible yesterday a strong south-wind rose about midnight bringing with it abundance of rain, Before twelve this morning the wind came round to the North, and to our dismay all the upper ranges of the mountains near us were soon white with snow. It made us tremble to think that Piedmont would probably be again buried in snow, and so the chance of our getting comfortably settled in our new kingdom the Castle, by the first of April greatly dimin ished. Col. and Mrs Halkett came in to our room for a half hour and we do not find them less agreeable as our acquaintance advances. Good Mr & Mrs Tebbs spent the evening with us. We shall miss them much and regretfully after we have left Pegli - which seems near at hand now - the packing having already commenced. Poor Signor Campazzi has been ill the whole week and was not able to give us a lesson tonight. We all feel very sorry for him. His father was so displeased with him when he turned Protestant that he disinherited him. The old man however repented of this severity on his death-bed, when it was too late to mend the matter, the property having passed into other hands, and implored his son’s forgiveness for the wrong he had done him. Now the ex-priest finds himself alone and penniless, but I do not think he regrets having followed the dictates of his conscience.

Mr A Mr Marsh left at 1 P.M. for Turin, - better but not as well as usual. I am afraid he will be made worse by the cold weather he is likely to meet in Piedmont. Here the day is as Wednesday 11th - fine as possible. The sea is still noisy enough, but last night its roar was almost terrible even to me who love its grand and solemn voice so passionately. Carrie and I filled up the day after Mr Marsh left with letter-writing and with Manzoni. At dinner Col. Halkett quoted, with a mixture of mingled censure and contempt, the recent letter of the Bishop of Oxford in which “he tries to do away the scruples of some of the very weak clerical brethren about rejoicing at the wedding of the Prince and Princess of Wales, because it is celebrated in Lent. The good Bishop tells his feeble-minded children that he feels badly about it himself, but that he is quite sure the Arch-bishop had the power to release the clergy from their obligations to keep Lent, and he was almost equally sure that in a late letter of the Archbishop had by implication claimed that power and exercised it. In fact he thought a fair construction of this letter justified the clergy in making merry on this occasion!” As I have not seen the letter I am not responsible for the quotation, but even good Mr Tebbs, who wears the largest mantle of charity I have ever seen, did not attempt to stretch it over this epistle, even though written by a Bishop. He uttered a semi groan and changed the subject.

We woke this morning, and instead of the bright sky of yesterday, found the rain falling in torrents, and the temperature not very warm at that. Carrie declares that the March of this year has chills and fever - not an unnatural suggestion for an Indiana girl. At dinner the chief topic of conversation was the Royal wedding in which a double interest is felt by the Halketts from their Danish as well as English blood. Mrs Tebbs thought is was such a nice idea that a map of Denmark should have been printed in the Illustrated News. I looked at the English-Danish party and they smiled. We understood each other’s meaning, but our more guileless friends did not - but persisted in saying “Don’t you think so?” “I confess,” said Col. Halkett, “it strikes me as rather a doubtful compliment.” “Oh,” I said, “England has no doubt heard of Denmark before, but she probably needed a map of the country - and indeed other nations sometimes fancy that a little more knowledge of geography would be an accomplishment not unworthy of one so widely known herself.” Before I had finished my sentence I was dismayed to find how much I was feeling, and was thankful that the good natured laughter of my auditors helped me to an excuse for the flushed cheek & tremulous voice with which I concluded it. After we came up stairs Carrie told me an anecdote of the day which had I heard before I should not have ventured my remark at the table, though I should have thought it all the harder. Miss Tebbs enquired of Carrie, who was saying something to her about New England, “in what part of America New England was and why it was called so.” Before she could answer a young Italian present volunteered to give the information which he did very correctly. - I am afraid I have forfeited something of the good opinion of Saint Tebbs by my sharpness at dinner. He bore the joke about England heroically, but when I said - on being told that some boys in Genoa had thrown a stone at the Baroness Gautiers laming her considerably - that ‘a boy was the only animal that I would not admit was as my fellow-creature’ he looked absolutely shocked, and both he and Mrs Tebbs began to defend that genus with a zeal worthy a better cause. The good man admitted that they were naturally rather cruel, “but”, he said, “if you could only see how I have touched their hearts in the Sunday school telling them how wicked it was to rob birds’ nests and tease animals and …..” “Yes, yes,” I interrupted, “and if you could only see how as soon as they were out of your sight they chased the next cow they met to tie a tin kettle to its tail….” Here the old gentleman sighed so profoundly that I thought it would show a nature as cruel as that of the boy himself if I were to proceed, so I broke off abruptly, and added consolingly - “but I must admit there are good boys.” With this peace offering we separated, but I am sure my reputation for charity has suffered.

Mr Marsh came back from Turin at half past three, reporting, as I expected, a snow-storm the day before, on that side the Apennines. It was not very cold however, and he thinks we must manage to get to Turin Saturday the 21st. The Baroness spent the evening with us. One little anecdote she told of herself showed that Italian women are much the other women, or rather Italian wives like other wives. She described a visit she made two days ago in Genoa where she was obliged to mount to the very top of the palace - four long flights of stairs, “It was very hard for me to get up”, she said, “but I almost forgot my own weakness in thinking how dreadfully my husband would suffer going down - he has an affection of the leg that makes it very painful for him to descend a stair-case. - At last when the visit was over, I contrived to save his amour-propre and his poor foot at the same time, by telling my friends who were with me that they must remember I was an invalid, and I begged they would go very very slowly.” She added that she really didn’t mind going down stairs in the least, but that gentlemen were so sensitive about any physical disability. She surprised me also by telling me that the Marchese Rorà, whom I admired so much last winter, and who is a particular friend of hers, is a sister of the famous Princess Belgiuoso [Belgiojoso] whom we knew so well in Constantinople.

Poor Mr Tebbs has been suffering so much all night that unless he very much improves today we shall give up our plan of going to Genoa tomorrow. Notwithstanding his illness we received from him and dear Mrs Tebbs, each of us a charming little present this morning - Carrie a box of the finest water-colours, I a beautiful little volume of selections by Dr Vaughn - Rays etc. - and last and best of all, an exquisite copy of Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress for Mr Marsh.

It began raining this morning just at breakfast-time and continued till the messenger came from Genoa to inquire if we wished for rooms there. We had scarcely sent him off with a negative when the sun came out. Also a message from Mr Tebbs that he was much better, helped us to regret our decision, but it was too late to reconsider.

Mr Marsh woke with a swelled face this morning and a certain colour about the nose which reminded me of his former attacks of erysipelas. This, with the necessity of being in bed myself, quite reconciles us to the decision of yesterday. Carrie read Tasso to me most of the day and then took a long walk with the Baroness and some other friends. Husband tried to work a little, but was restless and feverish all day.

Carrie walked some hours with the Baroness, I being ill in bed, and Mr Marsh ill out of bed.

This morning I managed to get on to the sofa in the drawing-room, and was just contemplating Mr. Marsh’s swelled nose by a strong sunlight when Mrs Valerio came in - She joined in the laugh which I was enjoying more, no doubt, than the unhappy patient. There seems no chance of his getting to Genoa before Saturday, when we shall probably all go together. Mrs Valerio was more sane than usual and altogether more agreeable. Just as she was leaving the Baron and Baroness Gautiers came in. The sight of them recalled a conversation between them reported by Carrie yesterday. At the Villa Sada which they went to visit while walking they were shown a fine large dog given them, as Signora Sada said, by Mrs Valerio. The curiosity of the Baroness was excited by noticing that Mrs Sada and Carrie talked of Mrs V__ . as a mutual acquaintance. Accordingly when they left the villa the Baroness asked C_ who Mrs Valerio was, and learned from her that she was an American of excellent connections who had married a Piedmontese. Upon this she turned to her husband who was a little distance behind her and asked about the family of the Valerios. The Baron, not having heard what had already passed, replied “Oh, è una famiglia da niente. Uno è un medico, - e- chè so io?” The lady by way of softening the matter to Carrie, said: “But one of them is prefetto of Como.” “Si, si, ma tutti ne ridevano - un Valerio prefetto!” I trust Mrs Valerio may never hear of these or any similar remarks. It would be very hard for her, with her just family pride which she carries to no absurd extent, to feel that she was surrounded by persons who looked down upon her persons husband’s family. The truth is, that if the Piedmontese nobility had never heard of Lorenzo Valerio before he was made Prefet of Como it was owing to the narrowness of their own knowledge of the active and influentual minds of Italy, and not to the insignificance of the man. He was well and most honourably known in Tuscany as a leading man for many years, and is still ranked very high. But his being Prefetto and Senatore del Regna can not, in the eyes of a Piedmontese noble, atone for his being born untitled. When one talks with the Gautiers, sees how patriotic they are, how cultivated in some directions, it seems impossible to reconcile the contradictions one finds in them; During their visit today, they spoke with great severity and equal pain of a near relative of theirs, a Countess Maffei who was singing at Covent Garden this winter. It seems she left her family some eight years ago (in spite of the remonstrances of her father, who is a man of the highest rank, and of her husband) determined, as she said, to acquire an immense fortune for her children - She had the most unbounded confidence in her talents (which the Gautiers say are scarcely above mediocrity) and though she has had no real success, she continues to go from country to country, and continent to continent firm in the faith that she shall succeed at last in astonishing the world. In the meantime her daughter has become old enough to feel the mortification, and has retired to a convent. Her son, a boy of some eighteen, also feels acutely the discredit thus thrown upon the family.

Mr Marsh’s face having changed from scarlet to violet, and even this last colour being evidently in a fading condition, we set about packing up today, and were very busy till dinner. In the evening all the inmates of the Stabilimento came to make us a goodbye visit. We part with the Tebbses with real regret - more than regret. They have contributed much to make the winter pass pleasantly, and I hope profitably too. An example so pure and high as theirs ought not to be without effect on any who come within its reach. We have seen just enough of the Halketts to make us very sorry that they did not join our party early in the winter. Mr Cocchetti has not failed to do his share in contributing to our pleasure. We are glad to leave him in better health and with a promise that he will come and see us. Poor Signor Campazzi seems much depressed. Mr Marsh got an opportunity to tell him he should be glad to serve him in any way that he could, and this gave Campazzi an occasion to say that he was willing to do anything that would furnish him with the means of living - that he would not refuse the most material employment. I was truly thankful that we had devined his circumstances and added one quarter to his usual price for lessons. It is painful to be able to do nothing for so estimable a man who has sacrificed so much for conscience’s sake.

We left Pegli at nine - the rain which threatened us this morning having given place to sunshine. The mountains to the west and north were glorious in the morning glow - the upper portions being entirely covered with new-fallen snow. The temperature was delightful as we drove through the village, and it was summer until we reached the bed of the torrent at San Pier D’Arena. Here the cold northwind struck us, and I shivered till I was sitting by a fire in Genoa an hour after. We encamped at the Quatre Nations, an imprudence we shall never commit again. I do not know what Quatre Nations are in the habit of refreshing themselves here, but the Hotentots are certainly the only people likely to be comfortable in this establishment. In fact the Hotels generally are vile in Genoa. Mr Marsh apologizes for them on the ground that they are old palaces nastified for centuries before they came into the hands of the aubergistes. Even fire would not purify them unless the conflagration were fierce enough to consume the very earth beneath their foundations to a considerable depth. Mr & Mrs Valerio and the Wheelers spent the evening with us. Mrs V_ gave us some choice acting. I have never before seen her so brilliant. For a time she personated Mrs Henry Field of New York, then a young Englishman who took the liberty to talk to her a few evenings since at the theatre. This last was infinitely amusing - but her tones and gestures are indispensible to give effect to the language of the simple soul whom she was taking off.

While Mr Marsh and C. were at church Mrs Valerio was to have read to me but we talked instead. In the evening Mr Wheeler gave me some further developments with regard to Master Henry Green. This accomplished youngster did Mr Wheeler as successfully as he had done us. Sir James Hudson was equally imposed upon, also the Dutch Consul, and several other foreign officials. All bear testimony that he is a boy of genius whatever else may be said of him.

Before Mr Marsh and Carrie could set out on a picture-hunting tour the Commodore came in with three of his officers, then came Olivieri of the city Library, and so followed a succession of interruptions until nothing was left of the morning except an hour for the Pallavicini gallery, which at best is not worth much time. The Commodore and Mr Wheeler are quite ready for a war with England. They declare that we can better get on with Alabamas when we are in a relation to strike back, than when we are nominally at peace. The Commodore is of course nervous at the report that a batch of these iron-clad pirates is destined for the Mediterrenean. He knows that his beautiful, but unplated, Constellation could not stand a moment before the scaly monsters. We had what they called a dinner a little before four, and at five were in t a railroad wagon faced for Turin with Deputato Levi and a collegue of his. At Turin - 9.15 P.M. - we found Mr Artoni and Gaetano waiting for us at the station, and in fifteen minutes we were comfortably housed in the Grande Bretagne. Mr Artoni seemed so glad to see us that it was really a pleasure, and even the servants of the Hotel made us quite happy by their smiles. One [illegible] scrap of news Mr Artoni gave us made me quite sad. Poor General Cattabene, (who had persisted, contrary to Mr Marsh’s advice, in arming his two thousand men for the United States’ service before he received an answer to the proposal) was so distressed on receiving intelligence that his offer would not be accepted that his reason has completely given way, and he has been sent to a hospital.

This morning the reported change in the Ministry is confirmed. - Farini, who has gone quite mad, - it is said he declared to Sir James Hudson that Victor Emmanuel would march into Poland with sixty thousand men to the aid of the patriots there - is now under medical care at the hospital for the insane. Minghetti takes his place as President of the Council. Pasolini too has retired, and Visconti Venosta, former secretary general, is now Minister of Foreign Affairs. This last appointment is not well received, the new minister being very young, and having had very little experience in public affairs. Mr Botta came in immediately after breakfast. He is to leave for America in a day or two. I was glad to hear him speak cheerfully of the prospect both here and at home. Mr Clay came in later, looks thin, but is as gentle and confiding as ever. I cannot help forgiving him for a vast deal of what we Yankees call shiftlessness - he is so thoroughly sincere and child-like, while he has excellent sense. Mr Tottenham came in a little later and is in excellent spirits at the prospects of having a little chapel or a church soon. He says his own ambition goes no further than the first, but Sir James thinks if they have anything they must have a church. It seems he has for a long time hesitated to speak to Sir James on the subject, because Mr West, first secretary of the E. Legation, had assured him that Sir James was determined to do nothing about it, and that it would make “bad blood” if anything were said to him about it. This statement, added to the fact that not one of the British Legation attended his services, kept Mr Tottenham silent until he received a note from Mr Meille, the excellent Vaudois pastor, offering him on the part of the Vaudois congregation, a site for a chapel near their own, in case he wished to put up such a building. Mr Tottenham then wrote to friends in England, received encouragement from them, and then thought common courtesy required him to tell Sir James what he had done. To his surprise he found Sir James very cordial in his approval of the effort to do something in that way, and offered him assistance for which he had not asked. Sir James however thinks it better to get some more eligible site, and to build a church rather than chapel, and Mr Tottenham says he would himself very willingly ask the king for such a site as he is sure he would grant it at once. He however prefers the chapel plan as being sufficient for all probable necessities, and as being so much more quickly and readily accomplished. Carrie was with the girls while Mr Tottenham was here. Mr D. C. Payne, who has been acting attaché to the U. S. Legation at Madrid for the last year, passed the evening with us. He was actually driven away from that capital by the dearness of living there, and gives a sad picture of poor Mr Körner’s embarrassments with his salary of twelve thousand dollars. I can easily understand the mortifications to which he is subject at a court where all his collegues spend at least three times that sum. Mr Payne seems intelligent and well bred, though he has not exactly the air of a Bostonian which I believe he is.

This morning at half past twelve we took a carriage for Pióbesi, whither sundry boxes, bookcases, etc. had preceeded us. The weather was fine, the mountains gorgeous, and we were not an hour from the city before the old tower stood conspicuous in the plain before us. Another half hour and we were at the gate of our home for the summer, and surrounded by a group of curious villagers anxious to get a glimpse of the new Lord and Lady of the Castle. Rather rough, I thought, as I ascended the coarse grey stone steps that led under the old cloisters and up to the first floor. Within the air felt damp and chill, and the whole aspect was, to say the least, uninviting, until a few windows were thrown open. Then the sunlight poured in and everything was gilded in an instant. The furniture though plain, was less scanty than I had expected, but I was disappointed in the size of the rooms, and in their inaccessibility. To get into any one room it seemed as if we had to pass through all the rest, and the first thing concluded was to break here a door and there a door, no slight job through such massive walls. I grumbled at the narrow passages, the dark damp anti-rooms, when Carrie brought me to myself by saying: “Why what would you have Auntie, a square stout Yankee house, with”squar-rum chambers” and all that?” I laughed and concluded I wouldn’t mind the rude floors the dark passages, the huge uncovered beams overhead, &c &c. Then the pretty terrace outside with its ivy covered wall, the nice cheerful little boudoir the Count had arranged for me, and a few other soothing points, not to speak of the old tower, the ugliest thing that can be imagined, but grand in its ugliness, now put one in good humor, and I dare say we shall be very comfortable in this quaint old place. The inhabitants of Pióbesi evidently expect considerable patronage. One man applied for the privelege of furnishing us with milk. Alex. interpreted his Piobesan to this effect. “I have a milch cow. If the gentleman will take the milk I should like to know, if not I shall buy me a little cow and make him grow.” The gardener’s wife with her hopeful offspring, Bambino Giuseppe, in her arms and Ragazzo Maurizio at her apron-strings, seemed to devour us with her inquisitive eyes, and the heirs evidently had been in the habit of receiving bonbons from the Count, as they looked a little disappointed on finding we were not provided with such luxuries. The priest of the village - chief-priest I mean, for I believe there are others - took care to be at the corner of the street as we drove away. The expression of his face as he lifted his broad shovel brim, was hard and searching. The Count says he is intelligent but arrieré. We got home about half past six, tired and hungry. At nine Mr Clay, who, about half an hour before decided to start for Paris tonight, came in to say goodbye. It made me shiver to think of his crossing Mont Cenis while there is such an immense quantity of snow there. All I could do was to beg him to provide himself abundantly with flannels, shawls and rugs.

Mrs Tottenham & the girls came to welcome us this morning - Miss Rosazza & her governess later. Mrs T. gave me some town-items, such as that Mrs Sartiges was popular, Mrs Solvyns not so, etc. Mrs Stanley is a most zealous deaconess, if not apostle, in the Polish cause. In proportion as she manifests more & more her liberal proclivities, she sinks in the social scale here, and she is now very coldly received by persons who last year considered it an honour to have a visit from her. Spaventa told Mr T. that the Police had a watchful eye upon her as she was believed to be a ‘red hot Republican’. Poor Mrs Stanley is as innocent of Republicanism as she is of Buddhism, and knows as much about the one as the other. It is pitiable to see a Government like this occupied in watching a shatterbrained woman whose heart is as far from conspiracy as her head is incapa ble of it. Every hour of my life here makes me more and more a lover of the institutuons (excepting always the divine one) of my own country as it was when I left it. - Young Payne spent the evening with us. He would be glad to remain here if he could really be useful as his family strongly oppose him going home. He seems to feel that duty & honor both direct him to return and join the army and he will probably do so, though he still tooks looks rather slender for such work. For social reasons I should like much to have him stay here, but this is no time to waste material in luxuries.

Mr M. & Carrie set out early for Piobesi and left me to myself for the day. Mons. Dupra, the editor, of called for a letter sent him through us by Gen. Cluseret. I was truly glad to see this distinguished French exile and, though he has unfortunately so indistinct an enunciation as to make it extremely difficult to understand all he says, he made a most favorable impression on me. He is one of those grave Frenchmen who are the gravest of all the grave, as a gay Frenchman is certainly the gaiest of the gay. We talked of Italy, of the U. States, of Poland, of every thing, in short, and I was not a little sorry when he took his leave. He agreed with me as to Mme Gasparin’s genius but spoke regretfully of her being ‘un peu mystique’. Mr Payne dined with us and Sigr. Filli Filippi & Botta took tea & passed the evening. The first told us many sad in cidents of the war new to us - some touching circumstances about the fate of young Putnam & Lowell etc - alas, alas. Mr Botta is more hopeful about Italy than I could have expected to find him. Since Massimo d’Azeglio’s last letter, which shows that even he has relapsed, I begin to lose heart. Among the many strange phenomena of the human mind this has often struck me - a man may change his early political, philosophical an or scientific opinions upon strong evidence that he had been mistaught, or otherwise led into false theories, and there is little probability of his ever returning to the youthful delusion - but the man who has seemed to shake off completely the gross religious superstitions instilled into his childhood, who has examined them by the light of the clearest reason, who has himself launched at them the sharpest arrows of his wit, is more than likely to return & and [sic] surrender himself up to them in declining age.

I drove out early this morning to select some carpeting, then went to make arrangements with Miss Beller for Carrie’s lessons, afterwards took the latter to Miss Rosazza to talk over the riding-lessons, and finally left her at the Tottenhams. I returned in time to receive a visit from the de Bunsens who are just breaking up for the summer. Madame is to go to Normandy to her parents who are in affliction, and M. de Bunsen is reluctantly obliged to live as a bachelor for the summer. They give sad accounts of the brigandage in the Neapolitan territory. De Bunsen had just seen one of the Commissioners sent there to make a report, but returned a day or two since, the whole Commission having most narrowly escaped capture. Miss Arbesser says the Duchess dares not drive beyond Pozzuoli - not even so far as Portica on the road to Vesuvius - In answer to my remark that he must know well the way to Piobesi, it having been the country-seat of his chef, Mr de Bunsen said - “Oh no, I was never there. The Count entertained a lady there whom a married man like me - happy in his own family - would not care to see.” Mr Payne spent the evening with us again & I like him more & more. He goes to Florence to-morrow to stay some weeks, but may perhaps remain with us afterwards as attaché. He had been taking tea with the Sartiges when he came to our room. Mrs S. had told him of the death of Mme Hauteville. Poor woman! A sadder story, a more melancholy comment upon the folly of a vain and weak mother, one seldom hears.

C. and I went to church this morning, Mr Marsh not being able to go with us as he was obliged to be with the new Minister of Foreign Affairs. - Mr Tottenham gave us a very fair sermon, and I was glad to find myself in church once more. When the services were over I had a warm greeting from the Baroness Hochschild and Mrs Stanley. Rustem Bey came in soon after my return to our rooms, and from him we gathered something more of the whereabouts and how-abouts of our collegues. He looks in miserable health and is going into the country soon. Mr. Pulzsky ga made us a long visit, and gave a lively sketch of his prison life last year in Naples. His knowledge on all subjects is very remarkable certainly, and he is awal always interesting, though I should fancy him far less disinterested than his whole- and high-souled wife. He has lately returned from a visit to the man of Caprera and does not give a very encouraging account of his physical condition. He thinks he will get a partial use of his foot in time but only in a long time. In temper he says the hero is sad, but at the same time serene and gentle as one might expect from a disappointed guardian angel. Madame Pulzsky is to set out to-morrow with her little daughter for the rocky island, immortal now as Scio, - to-morrow the child having been promised to be allowed to pay a visit to Garibaldi as her birthday treat. Mrs Stanley came as Mr Pulszky left - full of enthusiasm for Poland and liberalism in general. She is burning with indignation at the codini of Turin - says that La Peruzzi La Pasolini and La Rorà (with one other lady of rank whose name I forget) were the only women of the society who really did anything in behalf of the Poles at the late Concert given for their benefit. I suggested that the official position of many of the Turinese would make it impossible for them to aid the Poles without giving great offence to Russia and, in some degree, compromising the government, but Mrs Stanley is too disinterested herself to allow any consideration to weigh where her sense of the justice of a cause is so strong. She spoke, as every one else has done, with great admiration of Madame Mancini’s poem written for this occasion. Mrs S. was able to furnish us some details of the horrible burnings at Nice this winter. As to the American lady she only knew her name, and that she was from the Northern part of the United States, but she was present at the dreadful scene, even before the poor sufferer was laid upon her bed - she went at the request to her husband who had fainted, and in fact was with Mrs Davis much of the time till her death, six days after the frightful accident. She speaks with the warmest admiration of the unfortunate lady’s conduct at the time, and through the whole period of her suffering. Her burns do not appear to have been deep, & her death was caused by the nervous inflamation that followed. Mrs Stanley’s account of the distress of the husband, who was in very feeble health, and of all the intolerable annoyances with regard to the burial which arise in Southern Europe on such occasions, shocked and pained me more than I can express. I hope some one who was present and knows all the facts of the case will give them in detail to the world that it may be known how far Southern Europe is civilized in the last half of the nineteenth century. - Levi came in while Mrs Stanley was still with us, quite full of a project for Italian mediation between our North and South. Mr Marsh told him the thing was out of the question, that the South would not listen to it on any other terms than independence to which the North never could and never ought to consent. We questioned Mrs S__. as to Garibaldi with whom she spent nine days at Pisa. She says he was perfectly calm and gentle as a child, said nothing bitter of any one, and spoke gratefully of all who had shown him kindness. On one occasion only did he utter a word which looked like a complaint. She showed him a photograph of the ball taken, then recently, from his foot. He sighed as he looked at it and said “Oh, what will not men do to get a little money!” - then added - “but it is a pity that ball did not accomplish the end to which it was destined.” Mrs Stanley said warmly - “But General, the world knows it could not spare you. - Victor Emmanuel himself” - - - “On ne veut plus de moi,” he interrupted, still calm, but with most impressive and touching expression. When she was about to part from him she said. “General, I am going directly to Nice, Can I do anything for you there?” “Yes,” he answered “visit the graves of my family for me, and tell me how you find them.” She fulfilled the mission, and made a little bouquet of the wild-flowers and grasses which were growing there, broke some sprays from the wreaths of immortelle that lay over his mother, and sent them with her report to the great soldier who had already retired to his lonely Caprera. There he has lately been visited by some very distinguished persons, among them the Duke and Duchess of Southerland. Speaking of these last two, Mrs Stanley exclaimed triumphantly: “Wont old Palmerston be furious, wont he!” Our female champion for liberty had received two letters from the camp of Langiewizch [Langiewicz], written just at the commencement of the action which ended in his retreat into Austria. Gen. Dunn writes: “I hear the guns already. I am afraid the battle has begun in earnest - if so we shall surely not win. The troops are half disciplined, half armed, and we have no Garibaldi here.” After our visitors left us Mr Marsh told something of his interview with Visconti. Speaking of American affairs the minister said that the feeling in Italy was so unanimous in favour of the North, so hearty was the desire, so earnest the hopes, that the arms of the government should be victorious, that it could not be said there was even a party that entertained different sentiments. All questions of interest were sunk in the conviction that the great cause of human liberty was the cause at stake in this struggle, and the final triumph of Northern arms and the reconstruction of the great Nation towards which the oppressed of Europe had been looking so long and so hopefully, were the consumation consummation to which every Italian heart aspired. By the way, Rustem Bey says that Madame Solmes Rattazzi has made very little social progress here - very few persons having sent cards in answer to the wedding announcement. He was one of the exceptions, having, as he said, received many former courtesies from the lady and accepted her hospitalities not long before her marriage, and being an unmarried man he had thought best to continue the acquaintance.

After spending most of the morning at the Legation Mr Marsh paid a few visits and came home in time to receive the Abbé Baruffi who was to dine with us - I found the Abbé greatly changed. He has a very bad cough of three months standing, does not hear readily, and has lost much of his charming vivacity. He told us many lively things, but it was all done with evident effort. I think he is a little anxious about himself, and I am afraid he has good cause. His depression may have been owing in part to the circumstance that he had just left the death-bed of the son-in-law of the Countess Balbo. We enquired after Baron Plana, who is as well as last winter, and active as ever in his mathematical researches, and as ready as ever to improvising rhymes. Since the marriage of Rattazzi the Abbé says he was standing near Plana at some réunion with Rattazzi and his bride not twelve paces from them, when the deaf old Baron screaming at his friend as if he were as deaf as himself, said Rattazzi, en épousant cette nouvelle Ninon, S’est fait la queue de Napoléon. Neither the rhyme nor the metre were good enough to amuse the excuse the inconvénance, and the Abbé managed to make the Baron understand that he begged he would speak lower. “Mais les grandes vérités doivent se dire hautement,” said the fiery and uncontrolable old astronmer. This marriage of Rattazzi is still one of the subjects of gossip here, and we were not a little amused at the reply of Baruffi when we enquired what was likely to become of the social question about Madame Rattazzi. “Everything in her past life would have been easily overlooked but for that last inconvénance - her marrying again just twenty three days after the death of her husband, Count de Solmes.” It is very difficult for a person not accustomed to the social usages of the Continent to understand who how the grossest and most open misconduct of a wife during the life of her husband year after year, & even through the whole period of his last illness can be more readily

overlooked than the simple violation of what the world considers a convénance. Had the Countess de Solmes taken up her residence as openly with Rattazzi without the ceremony of marriage as she has done with it, and postponed that little formality to the time fixed by conventional usage, all would have been quite right! No moral delinquency affects position in the European world so much as an offence against the conventionalities.

A visit from the Browns was our only interruption from the work of preparation for going into the country tomorrow. We talked Aristocracy and Democracy, but kept off from any dangerous debatable ground. Miss Brown showed far more liberality and good sense than I expected from her. I was so tired that I had retired to my room before the Abbé came in to say goodbye as he had promised. Mr Marsh thought he seemed rather better than yesterday.

We were dismayed this morning to find it raining Fortunately it did not last long - cart came - the remaining boxes were stowed away and by half past three P.M. all our sieben sachen were on their way to Piubez, as the natives call it. We then sat down to an early dinner, after which we payed a shamefull bill for our weeks entertainment at the Grande Bretagne. We did it with a good grace however, having learned that resistance to such impositions only adds fuel to one’s own indignation without ever winning the slightest redress, and accordingly we bade the robbers a bland good morning, and answered their buon viaggio with a

smiling Grazie. Soon after six we reached the Castle and the first step under the Cloisters showed us that our new Susanne was a broom that swept clean. As we passed within the door we were not met, as on our first visit, by a current of damp, vault-like air, but by a feeling of warmth, and the bright face of Susanne who in reply to our vie geht’s answered “Ganz gut! ganz gut!” so heartily and so cheerily that it was quite like a welcome. Im the principal salotto a bright fire was blazing, and I should have scarcely recognized it as the room I had seen two days before. The fire-light touched beautifully the picture frames, but happily was not strong enough to show the pictures themselves. In fact everything gained by the semi-obscurity, and the sound of coming china followed by the odour of the blessed herb, and then the sight of the well-ordered tea-tray put us at once in the best of humours. We went to bed early and slept well.

A most comfortable-looking breakfast was waiting for me when I came out of my room this morning. Mr Marsh had already done a hard morning’s work among his books, having turned round three heavy cases simply to please my eye. I was sorry I had criticized his first arrangement and so given him all this trouble. The remainder of the morning was spent in the confusion indispensible to a moving. It will be a long time before we are really straightened out, but that once accomplished I fancy we shall not find ourselves so badly off here. The old tower looks very grand and stately, but it does not take long to see that it’s not of Roman workmanship. It is very old certainly but as certainly, not Roman. The room we have selected for a library opens directly upon a broad terrace by the very side of the tower and from this terrace we shall have the finest opportunity of watching the habits of the swallows which are nesting by thousands in the old walls. The mountains were not very clear this morning. We were all very tired by dinner-time, and sat down with a sharp appetite to the ample provisions which Alex. had made for us notwithstanding the thousand other things he has had to attend to today. A glowing fire on the hearth, and the prettiest of lamps on the table completed the work of restoration, and we all congratulated ourselves that our lives, after all, had fallen in pleasant places. Carrie found a marvellous set of cards in a little drawer which proved, as the explanation of the game states, to represent the means by which Joseph explained Pharaoh’s dream, and by which Moses wrought all his miracles in the presence of the later Pharoahs. “Cosè,” in the naïve words of the publisher “resta avverato che i tarocchi pigliarono origine in Egitto.” We laughed heartily over this discovery, then drank our tea, pitying the Turinese who were pitying us. By and bye, however. Mr Marsh and Carrie, both of whom had worked rather hard, began to look a little heavy, and in spite of all my efforts to be entertaining first one, then the other dropped off into a doze though they both declared they were not in the least sleepy. I was half inclined to steal off quietly to my chamber, giving as I passed, strict orders to the servants not to disturb their sleepy wakefulness till morning. Giacchino however came in with a tap that roused them - I apologized for their disturbance - they repeated their assurances that they were wide awake - and I went to bed.

Husband left in the 8.50 train for Turin. The morning is lovely, the birds noisy if not musical, and everything is almost as still as round the Castle of the Sleeping Beauty. Carrie and I have very unromantic work to do, or we should put ourselves in the sun on the terrace to watch the rondinelle, the just-blossoming peach-trees and the great buds of a magnolia, very common in and around Turin but which I have never seen before. It is a most beautiful shrub, but not hardy enough I suppose to live in any part of New England. Our dreadful frosts deprive us of many of Nature’s best gifts; but we have our compensations of which I know the worth better every day. Husband returned at one, Carrie and I threw up our work, and lent such a hand as we could to aid in regulating the library a little.

We make very slow progress in getting settled. As usual one thing has to wait for another, one person for another, and if by the end of the month we are really in order I shall be thankful. Mr Artoni came out at half past six, and we had a pleasant evening by a bright blazing fire. He is a dear good soul, as sincere as the light. I am sorry for his lonely situation, and wish he had somebody to love and care for him as he deserves.

After breakfast it was proposed to make a general ascension of the tower, our eyes having been astonished this morning by seeing it crowned by a large and handsome American Flag. All enquiries are vain as to how it came there. It was evidently got up by our servants as a pleasant surprise, but how they managed it we cannot think. I was pleased to find the tower very respectable in the inside, the stair-case good with a safe railing, and at every landing place was a space that might almost serve for a chamber. The wall is at least six feet in thickness, and in every window there is room enough for two or three chairs. My strength would not hold out to reach the top. (Mr Marsh estimates the height of the tower at 80 feet, but we intend to measure it) and I was obliged to content myself with a seat in a window at little more than half way up. As soon as the rest had left me to myself, the birds, (they are stornelli - starlings - and not rondinelle) came almost into my very face, and did not seem in the least afraid. The whole landscape before me was so sweet and quiet, the Alps so majestically grand, the sky so clear and blue, that I gave myself up at once to the mighty influence that nature is sometimes able to exert upon us in a way that we cannot resist if we would - and would not certainly if we could. I left the place with a sigh at the certainty that I should so seldom be able to enjoy the prospect it afforded. At one Gaetano brought papers and letters from America, the latter confirming the news we had before received as probable, that Aleck was in the hands of the enemy. Poor fellow! May God preserve him for the sake of his parents and all of us. How I pity his father and mother - even more than himself. But we ought to be thankful that he but lost his liberty in a fight where so many lost their lives. I am afraid we shall hear of Milton in the Army next - but we must be patient, if it is God’s will. We talked Italian all day with Mr Artoni - and exercise worth many lessons. Alex. gave us a festa-dinner, and in the evening Mr Artoni talked over his New England life which he remembers with the most grateful and affectionate interest. I went to bed regretting that we had not had our carriage to take us into church this morning, which I should have liked so very much. Saturday evening as Mr Artoni was walking from the Station he fell in with the schoolmaster, and the leading priest of the village. He made their acquaintance, and learned from them that in a town about three miles from Pióbesi a Mystery play was to be represented in honour of Easter Sunday. No doubt this is a remnant of the Mysteries of the Middle Ages, and we were very sorry that we could not see it. By the way, I should not forget to note that we received a visit today from detto il Poeta! I was in my dressing-room with Carrie and our maid when the door suddenly opened and a little, round, red-faced old man, with the jolliest looking fellow imaginable, exclaimed “Oh, scusi, Signore scusi!” Giacchino rushed at him indignantly, and showed him how to find his way out which he had mistaken. As they went through the passage he informed her that he had been in the salone to pay his homage to His Excellency, which was “egualmente il suo dovere, e il suo diritto.’ When I returned to the drawing-room I found Mr Marsh and Mr Artoni immensely diverted by the visit. The poet had introduced himself under the title I have given him above, paid his compliments, and declared himself ready to serve His Excellency, when his art might be of use. He said he had written composed many tragedies which he was too poor to publish, but which he still had in his head, that he had also written several sonnets in honour of Bacchus, one of which he forthwith proceeded to declaim. That he was under the immediate inspiration of the God himself there could be no doubt. Altogether it must have been a most funny scene, and I was sorry enough to have missed it. The only other event of the day was a present of some of the sweetest hyacinths, carnations, and violets, brought by the gardener of Baron Gautiers in obedience to the order of his master.

After writing letters and other morning occupations I ventured into the garden with Carrie, and was surprised to find the turfed banks almost completely covered with sweet violets. The fruit-trees are now nearly in full bloom, and several magnolias are loaded with large tulip-like flowers - very beautiful but without a single green leaf. The air was delightfully soft and we sat down like two children on the grassy banks and gathered the violets most vigorously. What a blessing it is that these simple pleasures continue to be pleasures as long as life lasts. They may waken - indeed the must waken - in the memories of those who have travelled far on this earthly track, a thousand sad, even painful associations, but the emotions of sorrow are still mixed with a quiet joy which enters the soul one cannot say how, through these gentle inspirations of Nature. Mr Marsh joined us before we left the garden and we returned to the house together. My maid wove some of the violets and ivy-leaves into my hair, dressed me in violet, Carrie came out with a lovely knot of the sweet blossoms and green leaves on her bosom, then arranged a beautiful basket of the same mingled with white and purple hyacinth &c, and we sat down to dinner looking ‘smart’ enough to have entertained His Majesty if he had chanced to visit us on his way to Stupinigi. In the evening we were glad of a fire again, not because it is now cold, but there is a dampness about the house which we feel as soon as the sun is down. This evening we began to read Andrew’s Life of our Lord, lately published by Scribner. It promises well. A volume of Babinet came in by way of change.

We all breakfasted together a little before eight in time for Mr Marsh to go to Turin by the early train. Not long after Alexan came in saying: “Now the priest he come directly to bless the house - you not want it blessed?” No, I said, we dont care to have it blessed, but you may give him his fee all the same, and let him bless the gardener’s premises if he wishes it, and any other part that the servants may desire to have blessed. The messenger departed with a smile - I fancy he cares as little about the blessing as we do, Catholic though he professes to be. Leaving Carrie to her lessons I thought I would venture a walk as far as the bank of violets. When there I was about to sit down on my cushion with the prospect of an ample harvest of the blossoms that were literally filling the air with their sweetness, when I observed, probably just in time to save myself from harm, that the bees were before me, and that there was not a patch as large as my hand that not already in possession of the enemy. I walked round and round, snatching here and there a violet from the edge of the bank, but at every prize I was distinctly warned off the premises. At last they began to buzz about my ears so thick and close that I was forced to retreat altogether, and content myself with a few gleanings along the edges of the box-borders, but the greedy little creatures would not suffer even this. They followed me pertinaciously - their numbers increasing, and their hostility becoming more and more threatening until I finally turned toward the house with a much quicker step than I had left it, and the vicious little wretches followed me on to the very terrace, and I felt myself in safety only when fairly in the library. Carrie laughed heartily at my flushed face, but I tried in vain to coax her to go and make a similar experiment. Mr Marsh came home at half past six bringing no American news, but a large package of the English Daily News, sent by Mr Solvyns for my consolation. Mrs S__. has certainly been successful in making a good American of her husband. He is thoroughly with us, and it is an honour to any cause to have such a man among its defenders. Mrs Sartiges has not been so successful with her Lord, as much perhaps from the inferiority of the material she had to work over, as from inferior capability on her own part. Talking over the difficulty, or rather the contradiction between Mr Seward and M. Mercier, Mrs Sartiges said to Mrs Solvyns: “Of course you believe that M. Mercier told the truth?” “No I dont - I dont believe a word of what he says.” was the reply of Mrs Solvyns. It seems that Mr Sartiges has got himself into a mess with the king. He lately asked for a private interview with him, and in the course of it said: ‘I suppose your Majesty is now prepared to admit the necessity of leaving to the Pope the territory he claims as his patrimony, and is ready to renounce all further claim to it.’ ‘Certainly I am not’ replied the king. ‘To renounce my claim to the papal states would be to disown all my past life, to renounce the title voluntarily bestowed upon me by the Italian Nation, whose unity I have sworn to accomplish and defend.’ ‘But’ replied the French Minister Ambassador, ‘your Majesty has now a new Ministry, and can throw the responsibility of the change of policy upon that Ministry.’ Upon this the King grew hot ‘For whom do you take me! I should be unworthy the name of a man, not to say King, if I could do the base thing you propose!’ Everybody is delighted at this new proof that Victor Emmanuel is still the Re Galanluomo [Galantuomo], and that he has the spirit to face even an Ambassador of the Emperor of France. Sartiges is fast earning for himself here the epithet he so justly acquired in America - a poor creature. The Capo Stazione at Candiolo entertained Mr Marsh, while he was waiting for the train in the morning, with a sketch of the country about Pióbesi, and its inhabitants - not at all calculated to make one ambitious of a long residence here. He declares that the whole region is well nigh pestilential - Rossore, being almost universal in the Spring and fevers throughout the Summer and Autumn. The four thousand inhabitants, as he states the number, he declares to be all miserably poor (which I can easily believe), and as thievish, vicious, and ungrateful, as they are poor, which for the present we shall try not to believe. Mr Marsh has no doubt there is great exageration in this picture, but he believes in it enough to make him want to get back to Turin as soon as a convenient house can be found While Mr Marsh was with the Solvyns the good old Chanoine Carrel called at the Legation. Mr Marsh set out, immediately upon his return, in search of him, but found he had not returned to his rooms. He was very sorry to miss him, but hopes he may still be in Turin when he next goes to town. [Images]

Mr Marsh was able to set himself about his book again today, but Carrie and I had to give the whole morning to looking over and arranging bills, papers etc. After our work was over she ventured alone to encounter the bees, and came in with her hands full of violets, though she confessed to having met with a sharp resistance.

Carrie went in to Turin for her French and riding lessons this morning. Alex. managed to muster an odd-looking old vehicle that might have passed for the Deacon’s ‘one hoss shay’ in the last days of its being. Giacchino volunteered to drive the poor lame horse which was to draw it to the station, and in this way she and Carrie were saved the long walk. Alex. and Gaetano preceeded them on foot, so that Mr Marsh and I had full possession of the seignorerial [seigneurial] part of the Castle - Carlo and Susanne, of the humbler quarters. For the first [illegible] time since I left America I spent the day in translating a German poem into English. At four the whole party came back in our carriage of which Borgo has at last given us possession, and we shall now be comparatively independent. They brought a large mail from America - family letters etc. Among them one from our poor Aleck written about a fortnight before he was taken prisoner - in very good spirits and full of really touching patriotism. God grant he may be speedily exchanged, and live to do his Country still further service. The general news from America is encouraging notwithstanding the hypocritical jerremiads of ‘our correspondent’ of the English Times. I am glad to see the leading American papers speak out boldly as to the propriety of making war upon English commerce at once in case she fits out more Alabama’s. This tone, which England cannot fail to see is good earnest, will soon put a stop to her piracies. Giacchino had a second interview with the Countess Ghirardi today in the subject of the Casa d’Angennes. The Countess makes such fair offers, and the chance of doing anything else is so small that I am afraid we shall be driven to take the house from May and pay the rent all summer without occupying it, merely for the sake of being sure of a roof next winter.

It was again necessary for Mr Marsh to spend the day at the Legation. He found Chanoine Carrel already waiting for him there, supplied him liberally with seeds from the Patent Office, added certain packages for our famous guide Pellissier, and talked over various schemes for the Becca di Nona, and other Alpine excursions this summer. The hardy old mountaineer is so full of enthusiasm as ever. I am sorry not to see him. Carrie and I spent an hour among the violets - rest of the day as usual. The King arrived safely at Florence this evening at five, but we have as yet no accounts of his reception. It is to be hoped every thing will go smoothly this time. Every body is pleased that the king has behaved so well in the affair of Bensa - Glowing statements too are given of the increasing popularity of the Duchess at Naples, and the admiration bestowed on her children - The poor Greeks, who supposed they had a king at last in the person of Prince William of Denmark, are said to be thrown quite aback by certain conditions which it will be impossible for them to accede to. No doubt they would be glad to accept the advice of the Examiner, and try to do without the “bear” if the Great Powers would allow them to do so. The

The last bookcases were brought today, and Mr Marsh library finally set up, so that I hope he may work more conveniently next week. We were able to fill our baskets with violets most abundantly this morning but it will probably be our last harvest, except gleanings, this spring. We sent the carriage to the station for Mr Artoni at six. He was surprised to find what progress the foliage and the flowers of the garden have made this week. One really does almost see the growth of the vine leaves over the balcony. Indeed the creepers generally are getting quite green though ten days age they were as bare as in January.

The well-ones passed the day in talking walking, driving and reading or listening to letters and papers from home and from England. In the first and last I shared fully, but was not well enough for any out-door performances. Among items of home - news was a letter from Alick’s Colonel, saying that they were well-treated and in good spirits, but knew nothing of their destination. This is quite a relief, but there is still much cause for anxiety about their ultimate fate - moving, as they are, further south into a more unhealthy and destitute region. The general aspect of the American news is cheering. The Copperheads are turning tail in most of the States, though they are still blustering in Indiana. Even there one of the stout-hearted loyal boys writes us they are not feared. If tomorrow does not bring us news of defeats we shall feel much encouraged. “Our correspondent” of the London Times in getting frantic. The awful crisis he has predicted won’t come, - the people, though they haven’t a spark of patriotism, have a silly superstition about the Stars and Stripes which he can’t account for, but which makes them utterly blind to their true interests. In fact the faith in the ultimate restoration of the Union amounts to a hallucination, - never was a nation so perverse in refusing to fulfil prophecy. Mr Artoni returned to Turin this evening.

A rainy day which Mr Marsh spent on his book and in bringing up some private correspondence, and Carrie in reading and writing at my bedside. We are in little danger of interruption here in any weather, but least of all in this. The only event of the day was Gaetano’s embassy to Turin for the post, which brought nothing of consequence. Some of the cards which come to us from Turin make us regret the loss of opportunities to make interesting acquaintances, but one cannot have one’s time for work and for play too.

Mr Marsh went to town immediately after breakfast. This will give him an opportunity of seeing what the road will be after rain. The report is that the grass looks wonderfully green, and the forthcoming leaves have made very rapid progress, but I am not well enough to get up and look for myself. I can however hear the merry voices of the birds - These blessed little creatures may be counted here by thousands, and it is very pleasant to hear them, but after all there is no note among them like that of our dear homely red-breast - or like our golden robin, or our bobolink, or many another American bird I could name. I hope we may have the nightingale later, but I am afraid our garden is not pretty enough to attract this fastidious little creature. Mr Marsh came back at five just as Carrie and I were finishing our hundred pages of Nota. The road he declares to be passing bad - it having taken him two hours and twenty minutes to go to Turin instead of the usual hour and a half. He brought no news, and had nothing of interest the tell us except that the house lately proposed to us by Dr Monnet, though prettily furnished and in some respects desirable, was not large enough to hold us. It contains but nine rooms in all including kitchen, all rather small, and the rent six thousand francs a year - as much as we paid for the Casa d’Angennes, By the way, our scheming for this last again has failed - Stella refusing to rent any of the rooms on the upper piano, and the Countess making up her mind that she could not hire for a year and a half in the little apartment a pian terreno. We shall be obliged I suppose to try for the d’Azeglio house once more.

I joined Mr Marsh and Carrie at five in the newly arranged dining room, but took my dinner at a little table by myself where I could lie on the sofa. Among the fruits for [illegible] desert Alex, presented us with some very odd-looking apples. I had often seen similar ones in Italy in the little street-markets, and wonderingly watched the old women as they took them dripping from some small cask or pail. I now found out find that they are a species of sour, hard, late apple, which put in cold water as soon as gathered and so kept until a thorough fermentation has taken place. The water is then changed after which the apples are left in their bath until wanted for use. They are said to keep in this way almost indefinitely, and are called mele composte. They have much the appearance and taste of our ‘frozen apples’ which have remained on the trees through the winter, though the skin is much thicker and tougher, and the taste of the fruit more vapid.

It being Carrie’s lesson-day at Turin, she with the servants drove away a little before eight, leaving Mr Marsh and me with only Carlo and Susanne as before. As I was not well enough to be up Mr Marsh came to look at me from hour to hour, breaking off from his book-making for a few minutes at a time. At four they returned, bringing the American mail, but no very important news.

With letter-writing, German, drawing and Nota the morning flew away so rapidly that I was surprised to find it almost five o’clock, when Mr Marsh returned from Turin. While Carrie was drawing I sat for an hour on the terrace looking in astonishment at the change which had taken place in the garden during the four days I had been shut up in my room. The woodbine on the old tower is now well leaved out, though it was not advanced enough on Sunday to make me quite sure it was woodbine - the trees, which were only slightly tinged with green, now cast a full shadow, - the rose bushes are coming out finely - a large vine-like acacia - a form of the plant new to me - is running up the terrace, and another over the lower arches of the old cloisters, both in full flower - clusters very like our locust blossoms, only of a pale lilac colour, bordering on blue. The grape-vines are beautiful with those delicate tints that appear on their first young leaves, and they are already throwing out their flowers. Indeed everything is so changed that I scarcely recognize the place. If it continues to improve in this way we shall soon grow decidedly fond of the Castillo degli Stornelli of which we have sometimes spoken a little disrespectfully. By the way, the number of birds that inhabit the old tower, and that are flocking among the garden trees is something wonderful. From what we had previously known of the habits of the Italians generally, in making war upon all winged creatures, we certainly did not expect to find ourselves surrounded by such a feathered population. It is a joy to see the joy of these happy creatures. There is another species of animal life here less attractive indeed, but scarcely less numerous - I mean the lizards. As I sat on the terrace this morning I think I saw literally hundreds running about on the stone platform, darting in and out at every crevice, springing up the wall, disappearing on the other side, climbing up again, looking wickedly at me with their little sharp eyes, but showing so little fear that I might have put my hand upon them if I had been so disposed. Well I remember when the sight of one of these creatures, so rare in the region where I was born, made me shudder. It was not till my Oriental experience that had familiarized me with them, and till my long domestication with the wonderful chameleon had made me feel the liveliest interest in this curious family, that I learned to see them not only without dislike but with positive pleasure.

The morning flew away as usual broken up a little by the waxing of floors and the migration of Carrie into her new upper room that has a lovely view of the mountains and plain, and is close to the old tower with all its birds and all its fancies. I quite envy her. At six we sent for Mr Artoni, and surprised him by the progress we had made in greenery during the week. At dinner we happened to be talking of dialects when he gave the transformation of vino in its progress from Florence to Bergamo. Vino in Tuscany. Vin in Venice. Vi with a scarcely perceptible nasal, in Brescia, Chi pronounced as a strong gutteral in Bergamo. Such examples make one excessively sceptical about all etymologies except merely historical ones.

We took a little turn about the garden when the sun was high enough to have taken the chill from the air, and had just returned to the terrace where were were sitting watching the lizards as they chased the flies on the warm sunny wall. We had noticed in our ramble a frog which had lost his leg, and a lizard which was minus his tail. Mr Artoni in a mock moralizing tone was commenting upon the trials of the inferior ranks of animal life, and I had allowed myself to fall into a vein of conversation in which I now seldom feel like indulging, when our talk was suddenly interrupted by Gaetano: “Mi hanno detto a Torino questa mattina che é morto il Signor Tourte, Ministro di Svizzera”. We all started to our feet. None of us had heard even of his illness. Gaetano had not been able to get a paper and we already began to hope it might be a mistake when Alessandro came in with the Gazetta. It was even so. ‘Mr Tourte, Minister from Switzerland, died yesterday at four o’clock of typhoid fever - a great loss etc.’ A great loss indeed. He was one of the very few men in the Dip. Corps with really broad and noble political views - one of the few who either know or care any thing about Amenca. His heart was really interested in the success of the North - he was a warm friend to Italy and in every sense a liberal minded philanthropist. As a man of native genius he certainly held the first rank among his collegues. We might have felt the loss of Mr Solvyns as much, but the death of no other member of the Diplomatic Corps would have been so severe a blow to us. It was fortunate fortunate [sic] that Mr Artoni was in far higher spirits than usual - otherwise I think we should not have been able to keep up even an appearance of cheerfulness afterwards. I was not sorry when the hour came to take him to the station, and we were left to indulge our own thoughts. We sent Gaetano down also to ascertain about the funeral as the papers never give the hour in this Country, and one must find out as one can. I am distressed that we did not know of Mr Tort Tourte’s illness, but it must have been very short.

Gaetano came back by the six AM. train and Mr Marsh was obliged to hurry off instantly in order to be in time for the funeral at half past nine. Alex. was quick enough to get a cup of tea for him while he was changing his dress, for which I was very thankful, but as soon as he was off I was distressed to notice the great change that had taken place in the weather - a damp, cold east wind having come up and the shawl was left behind. He returned before four, had been chilled by the drive out, and did not seem well. The account he gives of the funeral is in many respects painful. The National guard was out, with band etc, an immense concourse of people assembled in the streets to see the procession and a very large number of carriages followed the body to the cemetary. The coffin was taken from the car by four ragged fellows, probably Swiss, and carried to the place of burial. Mr Meille then read from the New Testament selections far from being particularly appropriate, or even in good taste, for the occasion, he then gave a brief discourse in which he showed more discretion; but he was then followed by our old acquaintance of Andorno - Father Ambrogio - who forgot all the proprieties of such an occasion and fell, with the energy of old John Knox, upon the Romish Church. By way of eulogizing the dead, he said, “È vero che non apparteneva a quella setta nemica di Dio che vende le indulgenze!” etc etc. “Non è vero, non è vero, come dice quella setta, che non ci sia salute fuora di essa!” etc. Mr Marsh was shocked at the bad taste of such an attack on the pope and the papacy, when most of those illegible who had come there to show their respect, for the departed were faithful adherents to that Church. Everybody kept quiet however - some members of the Spanish Legation only whispering to each other that the man was mad. The whole scene struck Mr Marsh as singularly wanting in everything like dignity and impressiveness and he expressed strong regret that Protestantism should have made so sad a figure before so large an assembly of Catholics. To show how different an impression may be produced by the same circumstances upon a man of another class I must say that Gaetano, a Catholic of course, came home delighted with the performance of Father Ambrogio - “Good for ‘em, good for ’em!” says he, “he told them some true things about the pope and his Church, they ought to hear them, it will do them good!” I am not surprised at any want of discretion on the part of good Father Ambrogio, but I am rather disappointed to find Mr Meille did not acquit himself more creditably. The more I see of the Waldensese however, the more I am convinced that their leaders are not men of breath enough to do much for the religious reformation of Italy. The L. Times today is full of indignation about Mr Adams’ “permit” to the English ship to land at the Matamorus. It is very funny certainly, and I dont wonder at their irritation though they have fairly brought it upon themselves. Mr Adams will no doubt have some explanation to make, but the present aspect of the thing is that this cautious and dexterous diplomat has for once made a mistake - a trifle to be sure, but one for which he is likely to be well abused. The papers tonight say that Farini is somewhat better. I hope he may recover his mind l sufficiently to appreciate and enjoy the very handsome compliment the Chambers have paid to his great services - 200000 frs.

It is quite incredible how swiftly these days pass - uninterrupted though they are. When I joined Mr Marsh and Carrie at the breakfast table, they, as usual, had already been up between three and four hours. - After breakfast we wrote a little, read a little, worked a little while in water-colours after Ruskin, and in the midst of it Giacchino came to ask if I was ready to dress for dinner. I was amazed. The dressing done we all strolled into the garden - Carrie mounted the tower, tied a cork to the end of a ball of worsted and lowered it down from one of the turrets greatly to our amusement and much to our edification afterwards, the result being that the height of the tower was ninety nine feet from the point of the turret which she was able to reach, but the outer wall of the turret rises more than a foot higher, so that we may fairly say the venerable old pile measures a good hundred. In the evening we were struck by the particularly melancholy hooting of an owl in one of the old windows. The servants told us that the gardener had shot its mate during the day, because he believed the creature destroyed his cherries while they were in blossom. We were vexed at the stupidity as well as the cruelty of this act, and I suppose we shall try in vain to convince the gardener that owls do not eat his cherry blossoms, and that on the contrary - they would be a great protection to him against the moles of which he complains so bitterly. The ‘voices of the night’ last night were most plaintive, the frogs sang their loneliest and most monotonous song, and the poor desolate owl cried in a way to make ones heart ache - yet all was wonderfully ‘suggestive’ as they say in these days.

Another of our precious uninterrupted days. Our friends pity us for being here so utterly without resource. We, on the contrary, congratulate ourselves on this most delicious quiet, and only sigh at the thought that such days must be very few. A stroll in the garden closed the working-day.

Carrie went to Turin for her lessons, and as I found my eyes too painful even to make the little use of them that I generally can, husband kindly gave up his work earlier than usual, and read to me, and carried my chair for me from one pleasant point in the garden to another. The day was beautiful. The sun has great power now - one soon feels faint while standing or walking in it, but in the shade a shawl is still necessary, the air which comes down from the snow-covered mountains tells plainly its origin. There was something so very soft in the colour of the sky, something so very tender in all the sounds about us, the hum of the thousand bees, the low rustle of the leaves, and the loving notes of the birds, that we both of us became unconsciously silent, and for myself I felt as if I were in a dream - a dream which had so much of childhood in it that my eyes were too full of tears to venture to lift them up to the face that was beside me. As we returned to the house, we both said at the same moment: ‘How is it possible not to love the Country?’ We returned to our reading - a little collection of Italian stories - the two first most beautiful. The Pietà di Mamma, an exquisitely touching story of Italian humble life - the subject being the distress of the inhabitants of a poor village when the order was given that there must be no more burial in the Church, and that a Camposanto should be consecrated outside the village. Before reading this story I had never conceived that it could be a cause of pain to have a departed friend laid at rest under the green sod, rather than under the cold pavement of a dusky Church, but I understand it now. The second, L’Annina, has the scene laid in Il Chianti, near Spina, and the Maremme, and is scarcely less pathetic than the first. Speaking of the character of the inhabitants, which the writer declares to be now most gentle and honest, he admits that for ages they had a very bad name, and among other proverbs he quotes this “molto brutto dettato” of the village of Radda:

“Radda!
Passa e guarda!
Non ti fermar per via,
Chi un non.
fa ’l ladro, fa la spia.”

This story refers to the poorest class of peasants called pigionali, who go to Frena, or to the Maremme, during harvest time to hire themselves as reapers. The third story is a legend of the same region, and the writer takes occasion, after painting the horors of life here during the Middle Ages, to pay Baron Ricasoli a handsome compliment. He says though the terrible Brolio “colle sue grosse mura e la sus sue forte torre non mostri nessuna rovina” it nevertheless no longer causes a shudder, - “Non sons le tronche teste dei nemici, e des vassalli ribelli che da quelle mura pendons, ma ui si affacciano invece vaghi e dilettose rame di fiori, e le pui’ rieche vite di Toscana le cingono. Che vale ora quell’ antico dettato.

“Quando Brolio vuol broliare
Tutta Siena fa tremare!’”

I find these stories of Italian peasant life l so attractive that I half begin to adopt the gardener’s views with regard to Carrie. He strongly recommended to her the other day the study of Piedmontese, assured her it would be a very nice accomplishment, tried to rouse her ambition by telling her that Count de Brassier spoke it like a native, and ended by offering to procure her a master in the village. C. weighed his arguments very gravely with him, admitted their force, but told him that she had already a great many lessons, and that perhaps for a while she had best content herself with picking up what she could by ear.

Mr Marsh went to Turin by the early train and came back at 1 oclock bringing no news of special interest except the debate in Parliament in which Father Passaglia took a conspicuous part. The debate grew out of another case of stealing Jewish children by priests, and out of the late developments in Turin with regard to the conduct of the chief Director of [illegible] the Ignorantelli P. Teoger, a story too scandalous for belief if the flight of said director from justice did not give countenance to it. If the people of Italy were left to themselves to settle the question as to their own Church they would settle it in a week to the entire satisfaction of the truly enlightened of every country - but they must wait on the good pleasure of France, or rather of her master. _ _ _ Mr Marsh had another long talk with his little friend the ‘Capo di Stazione at Candiolo, and came back full of zeal to make a pilgrimage to Pio sasco, Barge, [illegible] Pinerolo, La Tour etc, all of which the amiable Capo paints in very attractive colors. In the course of his confidential talk the young man bal confirmed the unanimous report of the dependants of the Castle vis that the unhappy Count Brassier de St Simon was the veriest slave to his pretty somnambulist - that she ruled him most despotically and sometimes even gave him blows in the face so violent as to force him to keep himself shut up for days. He told the capo he should leave Mme. behind when he went to Constantinople but the little vixen was otherwise minded and raised a storm that brought the Count to reason. She went, with baby and nurse, leaving the oldest child at a school not far from Pióbesi. She also insisted on taking some other friends of hers in the capacity of upper sevants [servants] & even to this her slave was obliged to submit. And this man has a wife - of good character so far as I have heard - living at Nice - and he prefers a degradation like this, to a quiet home. The merits of this Madame the Somnambulist consist in having ’la faccia d’un angelo’ with a good deal more of a ‘diavolo’ .-

Mr Marsh called me at six this morning to see how splendidly clear the mountains were, and to climb the Tower if I felt equal to it. I got up at once - Carrie was ready with her huge key, and after a hard pull I found myself at the top. The view was glorious but to say the truth I was so tired, or rather so utterly exhausted, that I could not much enjoy it. The stair-case is too narrow to allow any one to carry me, or even to assist me to any purpose, and I think it will be wiser for me to wait for my wings before I try the experiment again, How could any one help envying the birds that were darting without the least effort from this to the old church tower - from turret to tree, from tree to turret. Mr Artoni came as usual this evening but brought no news beyond the newspaper on dits. The cheif [chief] topic at Turin is still the affair of the San Primitivo and the papers are calling loudly for the suppression of the schools and indeed of the whole order of the ‘Ignorantelli’ throughout the kingdom. The king is expected at T. in a day or two.

One of the finest mornings imaginable. We spent our while time in the open air. The younger ones climed the tower Mr Marsh & I contented ourselves with the such a view of the great mountain-chain as we could get from the garden & one could scarcely desire it to be grander.

We strolled down among the apple-trees now in fullest blossom and their fragrance - to me the sweetest perfume nature yeilds - over - came me with memories of childhood. Dr Holmes is right when he says there is nothing in nature that can call forth old associations like sm an odour. At three we drove over to Baron Gautier’s villa which is pretty and has a very fine garden. The house is said to magnificently furnished but the Baroness does not like the place and they are almost never there. Their possessions here are an immense fortune in themselves, but this estate is only an item in their vast wealth. The country in now covered with grain & grass, the winter rye will soon be ripe and the scythes are already hanging about in the trees. But today it was difficult to see any thing but the Alps so clear so dazzling. The mighty sweeps from the peak to the base of Monte Viso - 13000 feet was as distinct before us as snow and sunlight - cloudless mistless sunlight could make it. And in fact all the chain from many degrees north of Monte Rosa round west and south till the Alps met the Apennines - but why try to write of such a scene. At Candiolo we met a great procession in honor of St Giuseppe - very orderly and respectable. The [illegible] contadini every where saluted us with much respect and I think are getting over the dread of the heretics, which they felt at first. Mr Marsh, after his first walk through the village said he was quite sure the inhabitants ‘did not want this man to reign over them’ - now they seem quite reconciled to the new lord of the castle. After dinner all went again to the top of the tower except myself, who was first comfortably seated in one of the garden-walks with Monte Viso full before me. Here the gardeners wife with her baby Pinotta soon joined me, and in had a nice long talk. The good creature told me of her father and mother, her brothers and sisters, the dear little girl she had lost, &c &c. in a manner so simple and so touching that I found my own eyes more full of tears as she wiped away hers own with her apron. If I could tell her story as she told it, I should feel very sure of the reputation of a thorough artist. And then in her turn she asked me questions, of my parents, and my children, brothers, sisters, &c. and when I answered, and told her how I had once left my parents for five years when they were very very old, and yet found them living on my return, and some other incidents connected therewith, she seemed so much moved that I could not feel as if I was talking with an humble and ignorant dependant almost for the first time, but rather that I was speaking to some sympathetic old friend of my childhood. She concluded her talk with, “Ah! tante ricchezze, e nondimeno ci sono sempre dolori!” I could not forbear a smile at her notions of our wealth which were as wide of the mark as her conception of the distance from here to America. She asked me if it was farther off than Pistoïa, and when I told her that it was a great many days farther before we came to the water where we took the vapore and that then we were many days without seeing any land before we came to America, her condolence was unbounded. “Ah, povera Signora! proverina, poverina! Dio Mio!” She was very curious to know everything about Carrie - quella bella e brava - as she called her. I was so sorry to lose a part of what she said from my ignorance of this abominable Piedmontese dialect. - When we returned to the house we found the evening papers jubilant with the announcement of the suppression of the San Primitivo. They also express much satisfaction at the king’s visit to Ricasoli in his Castle of Brolio. The Duchess who has been ill at Naples is thought to be better.

Mr Marsh went to Turin early and returned at one, bringing back papers and letters. The prospect of a war with England is now not small; both nations talk loud, and ours at least is thouroughly angry and with good cause. I still hope that the rulers in England may fear the effects of a war so much as to induce them to take a course which no moral considerations have hitherto been strong enough to force them to take. Today we heard the first nightingale sing of the season. After dinner Carrie took up some ivy plants to the top of the tower in the hope of coaxing them to grow there, but I am afraid we shall not reap the benefit of them in our day,

Nothing to break in upon our busy quiet today - not even the papers, for we did not send to town. Mr Marsh is reviewing his mms for the last time, and I am trying to follow him for another last time. Our garden furnishes a delightful resting-place between the Acts of our long day. This morning we heard the cuckoo for the first time this spring - her plaintive note chimes in delightfully with the other sounds about us. We also caug caught another glimpse of our beautiful lizard, and d saw a smaller one apparently of the same species. As we sat on the terrace about sunset the swallows flew so near to us that we might almost have touched them - beautiful graceful creatures with their mantles of blue-black velvet lined with white satin. Oh for their power of flight - for wings, wings!

The disappointments from Vicksburg and Charleston completely poisoned our day, though we tried to keep about our usual occupations. With all these failures against the rebels our Country seems only to grow the more bold in expressing her resentment at the base conduct of England, and the English Ministry of course grow more impertinent. If we do not have war either England must back out as we say, or I greatly mistake the temper of my countrymen. It may be that a general European war will break out in time to prevent us from coming to blows with England. The Italians seem rather to hope for such a war, they fancy that somehow or other it will throw Rome and Venice into their hands. The papers say that Baron Ricasoli has recently purchased a fine palace in Rome and that the king is extensively repairing an estate there which belongs to the House of Savoy. The people who are easily encouraged fancy that these circumstances prove that Rome will soon be in the possession of Victor Emmanuel, but of course the last fact proves nothing, and the first, if it be a fact, only shows that Ricasoli himself is still hopeful, or that he thinks this a good way to begin to get a foothold there.

We breakfasted early, and Mr Marsh and Carrie with two of the servants went to Turin, leaving me to get on by myself. On such occasions, comparing my eyes with what they were from twenty four to forty four, I can see that they have improved decidedly within that time. Instead of being unable to take up a book for one moment without great pain, I can now refer to different volumes, without steady reading, often enough to answer questions that arise in my own thoughts, - and so I can fill up the hours of solitude without depending entirely upon the ‘inner light.’ The news Mr Marsh brought home amounted to very little, - confirming however the repulse at Charleston and the probable abandonment of the seige of Vicksburg. There are also further developments of the history of Gen. McClellan’s campaign, which would add to his infamy if it were not already past taking any deeper colour.

Our May-day proved a dark and rainy one, but we were too busy to sigh over it, though we had intended to have the variety of a drive towards evening, in which we were disappointed of course. I was sorry to learn from Giacchino that a poor little fatherless girl of twelve, employed by the gardener to take care of the cow, had been with it in the field all day, notwithstanding the cold damp rain. G. found it out from having sent for her to try to measure her on the sly, for a chintz gown, which she needs sadly. Her father died last autumn leaving the mother with no earthly possession except nine children the oldest of which whom is now sixteen. They are said to be good children, and the parents had a good name, nor has the mother lost hers during this year of distress. Her poor neighbors have done what they could for her, but they say that the family suffered greatly during the winter in spite of the little they could do for them

The rain was heavy and constant until four o’clock, and there being no temptations outside we were able to accomplish a good deal within doors. Mr Artoni came not-withstanding the weather, and the post he brought looked more pacific as to the relations between England and America, and on the whole the war news from home was not so bad.

When I I joined Mr Marsh in his cabinet this morning I found him looking annoyed and perplexed. Mr Artoni had just told him of Mrs De Zeyck’s woefully embarrassed condition and shown him a letter from De Zeyck himself, asking him (Artoni) to aid her, but saying he had rather she would starve than be indebted to Mr Marsh for anything. This last heroic declaration was accompanied with every imaginable epithet of abuse, and violent threats to do him every mischief in his power hereafter. All this amiable manifestation comes from Mr Marsh’s having told him last summer, when he came all the way from Taranto to get money of him, that he should have written to him and not have made such an expensive journey in his circumstances - that he did wrong to come to his post with a large family taking the most expensive route through England and France and staying for his pleasure in London and Paris when he was so poorly provided with money as to be obliged to borrow of the consul at Marseilles for the means to finish his journey. He also told him that he had himself no resources beyond his own salary, that he was exposed constantly to similar and equally pressing requests, and that it was utterly out of his power to furnish him the money he desired. He however paid the expenses of De Zeyck’s journey and his hotel bill while in Turin where he stayed a fortnight, living in style, and walking the streets dressed with an elegance which my husband would certainly not feel that he could afford. It was evident at the time that the fellow was angry at Mr Marsh for not providing him with as many thousand francs as he asked for, and that he was still more angry on account of the advice given him to act with more prudence. Not long after this we were not a little surprised to hear that Mrs De Zeyck with four children had arrived in Turin and was looking for an apartment for the winter. One of two things was certain, either she had means of her own independent of her husband, or she had no more discretion than he, and would soon be starving or we must take care of her. The latter is probably the case. Her situation has been going from bad to worse, until Saturday she sent to Mr Artoni to say that she had not [illegible] means to give her children bread the next day. He sent her a Napoleon, and then brought her story to us. And in this penniless condition she has is living in one of the most expensive capitals in Europe, has three servants, with masters for her children and medical attendants for herself. Of course she cannot live without servants, but as she has no means to pay them she can get only such as pilfer and steal from her everything they can get. She tells the most extraordinary stories of the infidelity of those about her - I say extraordinary not because they are improbable so far as the servants are concerned, but because it is almost incredible that a woman of common sense could put herself so in their power, - giving them money to pay bills without sending her own boy with them, and without even asking for the receipt - taking sending silver by them to be pawned without in the least knowing where they would go, and without even asking for a receipt for it from the pawnbrokers, and innumerable other equally discrete performances. Mr Marsh sent her two hundred and fifty francs - also a certificate to a banker that she was the person she professed to be. I do not think there is any doubt but that she will accept the money notwithstanding her husband’s indignation. By the way, I ought to state - to help my own memory hereafter, which alone makes me record the story - that De Zeyck did repay the money Mr Marsh gave him last summer, not being willing to be under obligations to such an inhuman monster. As to the poor woman and her children, I cant for my life see what’s to be done. If she would go to her husband at Taranto where everything is so cheap they might live simply on his salary, if she will not do this she certainly should go to her friends in America and not try to live here in such an expensive way on the charity of those upon whom she has no claim whatever, beyond that of common humanity. That she has herself no [illegible] proper notions of her present position, or indeed of what she has a right to expect from others, is evident from what she says of an Italian gentleman who has furnished her with three hundred francs with no security except her word, and no doubt without the least expectation of being repaid. She says: “I asked that gentleman for six hundred francs; he gave me only three hundred, but said that though he could do no more then, he would, perhaps, give me three hundred l more by and bye, and now he does not keep his promise.” ! What is to be done with such a head? I shall try to see or send to Mrs Tottenham, who has been to see her, and try to get her to advise her to go back to her husband or to return to America In case she will do this we would willingly do everything in our power for her, but money given her now is only enabling her to run deeper and deeper into debt, without doing the least good except keeping her from present starvation. In the afternoon we drove to Stupinigi - roads very bad.

Our first work this morning was to write to Miss Arbesser from whom I had a long and affectionate letter Saturday She has recovered from her homesickness, and is now infinitely delighted with Naples and its surroundings. Even the people interest her immensely, as they could not fail to do any one of her quick artistic sense. The visit of the Duchess has certainly proved a success. Her court has been one of almost more than royal magnificence. The photograph Miss Arbesser sends of her little princess in costume is not so pretty as the one she sent before in morning dress. We were all rather dull today and neither the manuscript nor the lessons advanced as well as usual. Indeed we spent a considerable part of the morning in making bouquets of buttercups and daisies, and notwithstanding my proposal to fill some little baskets with these poor vulgar blossoms was met with wondering scorn, yet the result was pronounced very very pretty. Carrie crowned our cast of the King with a wreath of her own manufacture, but was a little startled when I told her the green she had chosen was the cypress - what would be held a bad omen here.

Mr Marsh, who went to Turin early, returned at one, though he had expected to be detained there all day. Mr Artoni reports that Mrs De Zeyck obtained a thousand francs from the banker through Mr Marsh’s simple certificate that she was the wife of a consul, but she took eagerly enough the two hundred and fifty francs we sent her, and that too without even offering to repay the Napoleon sent her on Saturday by Mr Artoni to furnish her table for Sunday! Charity demands us to believe that there is a monstrous deal of weakness here - or we are driven to a still more unfavourable conclusion. Nothing of interest in the papers, unless I except an article in the London Times, even more overflowing if possible, than usual with ‘envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness’ towards us Americans. A letter from Miss Blackwell with her usual catalogue of disappointments and disasters. Poor child, if there is any such thing as an unlucky star, it must have been high in the ascendant at the hour of her nativity.

The manuscript and other work made fair progress today, as we had no interruption - not even the post. Talking over this evening our quiet life for the last two few months Mr Marsh and I both came to the conclusion that in the course of our whole lives, either since those lives have run together or before, we have never had a period so free from interruption, so favourable to work. Thank Heaven, he has eyes and strength to do it.

Most of our household went to Turin this morning. They brought back an American post, with more encouraging news than usual. The spirit of the people at the North seems to show itself more and more determined to sacrifice everything to the great and righteous cause. Oh! if we had but men at the head of the government! Alexander brings home a report of a grand row in the Piazza S. Carlo last night. It seems Father Ambrogio was holding one of his street meetings (Mr Artoni told us last Sunday that thousands gathered to hear him) when a curate of the nearest church came out and ordered him to cease preaching, and depart from the quarter. The sturdy Father refused to obey, saying that when the proper authorities ordered him away, he should go, but not sooner. Some grave persons in the assembly advised the interfering priest to go home and let the affair take its own course. Instead of doing so the priest at once gave orders that the bells of his own church should be rung, and also procured those of the neighboring churches to sound the alarm. This of course doubled and trippled the crowd, but to the amazement of the zealous Romanist no doubt, this crowd took the side of the threatened Father Ambrogio, and the meddler escaped maltreatment only with very great difficulty. Father Ambrogio, after the priest had fled, distributed some of his programms for a national church, and then told the multitude that he was tired and could say no more to them then, but God willing he would meet them again Friday evening at the same place! Perhaps in time the government may learn that the people are not so far behind them it as it fancies.

I have no variety in the even tenor of our way to record today, We passed the morning as usual, then strolled in the garden, gathered up the scattered birds, and restored them as far as we could to the disconsolate mammas, and were finally driven into the house by the sound of a coming temporale. C. and I then went up stairs intending to do some serious work with our water-colours, but it was difficult to see anything very distinctly between the blinding flashes of one moment and the twilight of the next, so that our efforts ended in an extemporary princess, with very red ribbons and very red cheeks, who stood pointing at an object on a rock, which I took to be a lantern, but which Carrie said was in fact a crown. We came down rested if not greatly the better artists.

A thunder-storm worthy of a western prairie came upon us about three and continued till after five. We supposed Mr Artoni would not come of course, but he did, and reported perfectly fine weather at Turin. The tôta gave the gardener’s little cowherd a pretty and stout chintz dress this evening. The poor child had great difficulty in comprehending the nature of the miracle, and seemed at first sadly frightened. Then at last the truth fairly dawned upon her that she was actually the owner of the precious garment she was overjoyed of course. All that drenching shower she had stood exposed in the open field.

Mr Marsh was on his way to His Majesty before I was up this morning. The audience was at half past ten, and gave Mr Marsh time to return at one. The King received him in his working-room, in which stood several tables piled with books and papers. H.M. was in the plainest possible dress - a frock-coat, a worn waistcoat, shirt-collar open and turned low from the neck. His manner was, as usual, frank and cordial. He talked freely of both American and Italian affairs, - spoke of the great necessity of uncompromising measures on the part of our government, of steady courage and firm dealing with the traitors. Of course he passed no criticisms upon what had been done, but it was quite evident that the honest king thought the honest president had dealt too timidly and too tenderly with the conspirators. No one can look at the lion-like Victor Emmanuel without feeling sure that his course would have been very different. I have often said to Mr Marsh: i “I hope the king may never hear in what manner Abraham Lincoln entered the Capital of the great Nation that had chosen him to preside over it.” Our royal soldier would never after be able to conceal his contempt of the President and his advisers. Speaking of the frigate lately launched in New York for his Government, the King said: “I am glad it is so nearly ready, I shall probably want it soon.” He then spoke of a general European war as a thing very possible, said that by one lesson or another governments must be taught the great principles of the rights of individuals and of nationalities. To resist these progressive tendencies was as impolitic and foolish as unjust. He did not hesitate to declare Rome the fountain of all the brigandage and all the disturbances that vex the Southern provinces, and said it was only a question of time, the ultimate complete union and pacification of Italy. He named directly neither Pope nor Emperour. He spoke also of the party of action and expressed his regret that they had injudiciously precipitated matters that should have been left a little longer as they were. From politics he passed to more personal matters, expressed his hope that Mr Marsh would soon fix himself permanently in town, and enquired particularly
[illegible] about our summer residence. Mr Marsh told him we had Count de Brassier’s Castle of Piobesi - “Ah!” said he, with a roll of the eyes peculiar to himself, and a half smile - “je connais ça!” - which Mr Marsh translates - ‘I know that same!’ It is a pity that this thoroughly strong-headed and honest king should not have received a different moral training in some respects, but I do not suppose that any of the religious teachers of his youth, or any of the moral or religious counsellors of his manhood ever dared to tell him that he was bound to obey God’s laws as perfectly as his subjects - in fact they do not themselves hold him to be so. But in spite of the blots upon his life he is a great-hearted king, and he has had a hard and laborious anxious life. He himself said to Mr Marsh: “Quelle vie j’ai pas meneé depuis ’48.” Mr Marsh found in the first antiroom at least a hundred and fifty persons of all classes and ages, and of both sexes waiting to see the king, and in the second antiroom, the ones one next the kings apartment, there were some fifteen or twenty persons of distinction waiting their turn. When these last had been received the King probably went into the first antiroom himself, and inquired of each what his petition might be. While waiting Mr Marsh had a little talk with Count d ’Aglié about the American war. The Count had swallowed large doses of the London Times, but, unlike an Englishman, he was ready to hear and comprehend opposing statements. This is on the whole the finest day we have had this season. The air is delicious, the birds tumultuous. Carrie says the nightingales sang all night last night but I did not hear them. We have spent nearly the whole day in the garden and on the terrace.

We were so busy all day that it was not until after dinner that I discovered how fine the day was - the air so soft and delicious, and even till tea-time there was no perceptible chill and we sat out later than we have been able to do before. The birds are an unfailing source of interest to us, and it is wonderful to find how many different notes, tones and intonations we learn to distinguish in the same species of bird. I have no doubt their language is as perfect in its way as ours. It was really refreshing after having written letters a large part of the day - letters full of the cares, the anxieties, the sorrows of life, to sit down so quietly with nothing but the calm of nature, or her entire harmonies, around us. I almost forgot the griefs I had been trying to console, the fears I had been trying to dispel, the indignation of which I had made a confession. I doubt whether even the London Times could have stirred my pulse during this hour we were on the terrace. Only this morning I felt my face flush at the low insinuations cast upon Miss Dickenson, to whom “our correspondent” dares not deny the gift of extraordinary eloquence, and the charms of grace and beauty. She must have uttered truths, and in a forcible way, too, that went to his conscience, for he finds nothing to reply to her except to call her - “a scold” etc etc

If ‘all work & no play’ makes dull boys, we shall soon all be boys and very dull ones at that. Mr M & C. were up at 5 - we all breakfasted at 7 that Mr M might go by the early train to Turin. He came back at twelve and found C. & me just where he had left us - she being swallowed up in her lessons, I in his Ms. Our only rest all day was an hour after dinner on the terrace. But it does not fatigue one to work when one is not distracted by visits.

Our house-keeping machinery, which usually runs as smooth and noiselessly as that of a fairy tale, has been jarred a little by the illness of the laundress during the past two days. At first it seemed I an attack of colic of not at all a severe character. Gaetano had already assumed the functions of medicus before I was told of her illness. He had given her oil very judiciously, but when I went to her she complained that notwithstanding the medicine she still felt a good deal of pain, and soreness at a particular point, and wished for leeches. She had no fever then, was in a gentle perspiration, and as she objected to a doctor it did not seem to me necessary to urge it. I did not however advise her against the leeches she had proposed, and thought they might do her good. Our cook, who is her husband, said he understood perfectly how to put them on, having done it many times. We all went to bed quietly, my maid giving directions to be called if any thing went wrong. Soon after midnight I heard a rap at her door - then some stirring about her room - and then the door again opened and closed. With some difficulty I persuaded Mr Marsh to let me go and see what was the matter, knowing that I should produce less of a scare among the servants that his presence would do. I knocked at Giacchino’s door, and was answered by a very faint voice from her. “Oh, please come in Madame if you can a moment.” I went in, found her as white as a piece of paper. Whether just recovering from, or just passing into a fainting fit I did not know. Alexander was bathing her with cologne water and greatly agitated. The story was that Giacchino went to the door to see what Carlo wanted, and while talking with him became suddenly faint, fell, and was carried by him back to her bed. In the meantime Alex. had comprehended from Carlo that he had not been able to stop the bleeding from the leeches, that he had allowed six to take hold at the same point and they had of course made quite a severe wound; he had allowed this bleeding to go on for two or three hours till poor Susanne began to faint. Alex. sent Carlo to Gaetano and this was as far as matters had gone when I went in to Giacchino’s room. I asked if cob-webs had been tried, and found they had. I then told Aleck as soon as the patient we had in hat hand had pretty thoroughly revived under port-wine, to have a doctor sent for if there was one in the village, if not to call in the apothecary. The medicus however begged to be allowed to try an experiment, and if he could not stop it in ten minutes my directions should be followed. Within the ten minutes I had the satisfaction of hearing that he had succeeded perfectly. Two applications of tinder from burnt linen answered the purpose.

This morning the household is all a little the worse for wear. Susanne is of course very weak and can hardly tell whether her bad feelings are from loss of blood or from the fact that her difficulties are not removed. Carlo is worn out by want of sleep for three nights, and both Aleck and Giacchino are by no means well. Gaetano makes no complaint. He has strength enough to stand a good many such nights without being the worse for it. To us he is an invaluable servant, and I often think that if like Cavour, he had been born a Count, had had all the advantages which such a position implies, he might have been scarcely less important to his country. I have never before seen anything like the power of intuition of this man. When I wish to give him an order and my Italian is not fluent enough to explain myself without a little hesitation, he says instantly. “Si, si, signora, capisco.” and then tells me what I want him to do, with a clearness, and an amount of detail that astonishes me. “You wish me to say to __ con molte complimenti” - here follows a string of graceful compliments such as I could never have invented for myself, - and then comes the precise message, exactly as I could have wished it, and the only clue he had had to all this, was perhaps the name of the person, and a knowledge of something that had previously passed between us. Oftentimes when any of the Diplomatic Corps are ill, he goes entirely of his own accord, invents the most proper messages for us and then returns to tell us what he had done and the answer. Many and many a neglect on our part he has covered in this way. His defference and politeness to us is unbounded, but unfortunately is is [sic] rough and coarse with the other servants and shows a harshness sometimes towards his own inferiors that is very un-Italian. He is a Gvenese enoese, but has far more of the characteristics of the Neopolitan While we were enjoying after dinner the post in the garden, and still more the delicious air, the singing of the nightingales, the swift glancing of the swallows, and last, but not least, the grand mountains, Alexander came out to announce Baron Gautier. This is the first visitor except Mr Artoni that I have received for six weeks, and I believe the only one who has been to the Castle, except a couple of Italian officers, and the poet Ferrara of Pióbesi. We talked over the ordinary common-places for an hour, and then the Baron took his leave to return to Turin. I fancy from his hesitation about the B time of the Baroness’s coming to Pióbesi, that she does not intend to occupy their château here this summer. Poor thing! with her habits it would he [be] a dull life for her, and yet she is far less dependant than any other Italian woman of society whom I know.

It is doing sad outrage to my youthful fancies to confess that I wished most heartily last night for the power of hushing up the nightingales for an hour or two at least. Fell Feeling a little nervous, partly from pain, and partly from anxiety about Susanne, I was rather disposed to be wakeful, and it really seemed as if there were a combination among the nightingales not to cease for one moment their clear, soft piping, or their delicious gushing warble. Mr Marsh, who went to Turin early to see if it would be necessary for him to go to Ancona to be present at the opening of the railroad to Pescara, returned with the pleasant news that only Prince Umberto was going and that he should not feel obliged to go himself. This settled, and good reports being brought from Susanne we all set quietly to work again, and the day passed as usual without any interruption whatever. The evening was balmy and musical, and the alternate voices of the owl and the nightingale brought up very forcibly the old poem, and it was difficult to restrain ones fancy from inventing a new dialogue. This reminds me of the pity I felt for poor Baron Gautier who complained grievously of the great number of birds around his château from which he could not rid it - pas moyen, pas moyen de les chasser - I confessed to the weakness of rather liking them. The gentleman gave me an enquiring glance with very wide eyes, but made no reply.

Mr Artoni’s arrival in the evening was our only interruption except the visits made by some of us from time to time to poor Susanne who does not much improve. Nothing of especial interest from Turin. The evening papers contain a despatch from America saying that a battle is going on between Hooker and Lee.

This morning the air feels very like summer, and we found the shady garden walks altogether the pleasantest lounging place. Susanne’s illness however has rather turned our domestic establishment sottosopra as Carrie expresses it, and our day was a less quiet one than usual. Dr Monnet, who came to see the patient at six this morning, reports her very ill, but he hopes not dangerously so. He encourages us with the hope that he shall find a house for us in Turin during the course of the next two months.

Mr Marsh was at his work this morning soon after four, but Carrie and I were on the semi-sick list, and were obliged to pass an idle day. My little boudoir became family headquarters - the first day it has really been occupied since we camd came here. It was a pretty sight at sunset to see the gardener, who had finished his day’s work, sitting under the old cloisters, with his baby in his arms and his older boy at his knee while his wife was bustling in and out about her chores so we should say. There is something so picturesque about these people, under whatever circumstances one sees them. When I look at these children, the oldest of which now little more than seven already reads and writes, I cannot help earnestly hoping that they may grow up more enlightened than their parents. This very gardener, for instance, who seems kind and obliging, refused to take the trouble to spread over his garden a quantity of valuable material for enriching it though it was offered him as a free gift. He said very likely he should not be employed here another year, and he did not care to make the garden good for those who were to come after him. It was in vain that he was told that he would be more than twice repaid for his trouble by the improvement of his own crops this very year. He was inflexable. Another instance of his short-sightedness we have had in his behaviour about some very nice seeds which Mr Marsh gave him from the American Patent Office. Although it was explained to him what they were, that they would prove a great addition to his vegetables etc, he planted but a very small quantity of what were given him, and these in a part of the garden so completely shaded that there is not the least chance that the plants will ever come to maturity. The motives for this course were no doubt two. First, he did not believe that anything could be better than what he had been accustomed to cultivate and his father before him - the second he thought that Mr Marsh would expect a portion of the products in return for the seed. As it never entered our minds that he could have this idea, we did not think to explain to him that we would take the corn, beans, etc and pay him for them as for anything else in the garden. This being understood he would no doubt have cultivated them carefully. Such things prove not only want of intilligence on the part of the poor, but great want of liberality on the part of the rich.

Dr Monnet came out in the mid day train, pronounced Susanne much better, took a cup of chocolate with us, and had just time to allow the heavy shower to pass over before it was necessary to go back to the station. We all feel in better spirits at the good report about Susanne, and I hope Carrie and I may both feel well enough tomorrow to take up again at least a part of our regular occupations. Today we have been just worthless enough to amuse ourselves with a family of larks, another of sparrows, a third of magpies and one poor, stray starling, - all of which have become a part of our household. They can all fly a little except the larks and they will soon be old enough to take to the wing. Tonight we have a bad telegram from America - the defeat of Sedgwick - but we hope it will not be so bad when we know the whole. Our disasters seem endless.

Alexander brought from Turin this morning a hand-bill containing a notice of young Garibaldi’s prowess in Poland. I hope this may be soothing to his father, who must be chafing at Caprera at the neglect with which he is treated by our government as well as his own. The tone of the papers towards France when speaking of her adventures in Mexico proves that Italy rejoices that her ally has found her attempt to interfere with us an expensive job, and likely to bring forth only bitter fruits. The thunder-shower we had here yesterday was a very ouragan in Turin where it burst water-pipes and broke windows, and sent torrents through the streets quite to the terror of the inhabitants.

Dr Monnet came out by the six A.M. train, pronounced Susanne so well as to need no further attendance, and roused all Mr Marsh’s mountain enthusiasm by telling him of the wonders of Monte Viso, the Traversette and Dauphigny in general. It is amusing to see how he fires at the very thought of a glacier and a lofty peak or pass. I thought the experiences of the last two years with all the severe climbs accomplished, would do something to abate his zeal, but they seem to have had rather the contrary effect. The Dr. promises us a letter to the “anciens” of Bobbio, which is to insure us good guides and every attention the poor place can offer. I have had a hearty laugh at Mr Marsh over the satisfaction he takes in this prospective service to be rendered by the Bobbians, and have tried to moderate his expectations, by telling him that no great amount of comfort was to be expected in a village where the whole household expenses of a family of five amon amounted to scarcely one hundred francs per annum. These one hundred francs feed, clothe, shelter and warm the household. It will certainly be very interesting to see how such people live, and to learn something of them, but unluckily their want of a language makes this last very difficult.

The grand division of the family went to Turin this morning, leaving at headquarters only the invalids and two of the able-bodied to take care of them. Mr Marsh returned at one, the rest at six. Nothing of special interest in the way of news. Mr Marsh made the acquaintance of Signor Moriundo, one of the chief judges. He lives at Candiolo. In trying to pick up information about the actual condition of the inhabitants of this little village, for instance, he accounts are so contradictory that one sometimes quite despairs of ever getting at anything like the truth. Baron Gautier says that all the fertile plain around the village for miles is owned by three or four proprietors, he himself being one - that they do not lease it out at all, and only hire the peasants to make the hay, and take care of the other crops. The peasants, he says, live on what they earn in this way as well as they can, but confesses that they are necessarily very poor, as their wages are very low, and that they add to their little earnings when they can by poaching on the King’s hunting grounds of Stupiniggi etc. etc. This agrees with the accounts given by the capostazione. On the other hand our gardener declares that a great many of the inhabitants of the village are small proprietors, that a great many others have land in lease, and that it may always be had by those who are industrious, and can command money enough to pay the rent. Mr Marsh’s habits will not allow him to give up the pursuit of the truth in this matter, and I suppose he will find it out in time, but the enquiring mind is often sadly tossed about. I could not help smiling when he gave me after his return an account of the conversation he had had with an English or Scotch family on their way to Pignerole this morning. The lady who was evidently a very intelligent and earnest woman was also afflicted with this unreasonable desire of knowing something about the country and the people where she was travelling. She asked Mr Marsh many questions, especially about the religious feeling of the community in this neighborhood, taking him for an Italian. As she spoke the language very well, and had very dark hair and eyes he also took her for a native of some part of the Peninsula, and it was some time before they found out that their mother-tongue was the same. The lady enquired what could best be done to really aid the inhabitants of the valleys especially, to make moral and physical improvement, and I hope she may leave behind her some permanent marks of her wish to serve them. Carrie spent the day with the Tottenhams, and from them learned indirectly something of Tôta Pulszky’s visit to Garibaldi. She seems to have had a ‘splendid time’ as she calls it but the only particular item of enjoyment reported is climbing by a ladder into the hay-loft and dancing on the hay with Menotti and Ricciotto. Menotti has led a very different dance since that day, if there is any truth in handbills.

The retreat of Hooker across the Rappahannoch and the great victory claimed by the rebels came upon us last night like a thunder-bolt. There had been a previous report of the retreat of Sedgwick, but we still hoped Hooker’s main division might be strong enough to crush Lee. Our calamities seem infinite, and I cannot help feeling that our government needs all this to bring it up to more manly action on the slavery question. It has been driven to do much, but it has not yet been brought to be willing to employ thoroughly anti-slavery officers. When it does that we shall have victories - I am afraid not till then. As long as Gen Halleck directs military movements from Washington so long I have little faith in any great triumph over rebeldom. A heavy rain keeps Mr Artoni from us tonight.

This is our first Sunday entirely by ourselves since we came to Starling Castle, and we all enjoyed it immensely. It is always pleasant to us to have Mr Artoni here, but still I sometimes wish his one day in the week would [illegible] occasionally come on other days than Sundays. This I dare say he would like better too, but it does not seem practicable. We read John Bunyan, which Mr Marsh always takes particular pleasure in, then we read the Brownings a while, looked a little at Buckle, ran over a few pages of Bacon, and the day was done. There is something so pleasant, in these days of surfeit of new books, in turning over the leaves of volumes with which we have been familiar from our childhood It is not merely the thoughts, the sentiments, the style, which we admired then that give us so much pleasure now, but the thousand chords of mysterious association that they touch are so many new guarantees of our own immortal nature.

Mr Marsh went to Turin by the 8.50 train to be present at the opening of the Parlament by the King. His Majesty entered the Parlament chamber about eleven, accompanied by the Prince Caragnano and a large suite. He was received by the chamber with tumultuous applause. The Duchess of Genoa accompanied by Princes Umberto and Amedeo occupied the Court Tribune. The ladies of the Diplomatic Corps were not in the Diplomatic Tribune with the Ministers themselves, and were probably seated near the Duchess, though Mr Marsh did not see them. The King’s speech was received with the wildest enthusiasm. (See left-hand page.) Mr Solvyns, talking to Mr Marsh of an interview he had with the King in Florence says the latter told him that he looked for a general war in Europe which should put the finishing stroke to the edifice of Italian unity, that things could not go on much longer as they were now going on at Rome - that if they did he “would resign his crown and offer himself as a volunteer in the cause of the Federal Government!” This pleases us very much, not because we suppose Victor Emmanuel really contemplates offering his sword to President Lincoln, but because, said to a Minister from another Country, it is a new proof of the sincere interest he takes in the final triumph of the American Republic. I was glad Mr Marsh had an opportunity to talk a little with Mr Solvyns, for the cheerful tone of the latter helps him to look a little less despairingly upon this late terrible failure of “fighting Joe Hooker.” Among the Diplomatic gossip are some statements about the last days of poor Mr Tourte which are very painful. When the physicians became alarmed about him his sister in Geneva was telegraphed for. She came at once, but hearing that her brother was nursed by a pretty Genoese, (who was installed in the same house with him, and who had been so for some months,) she, the sister, refused to go to enter his rooms, or even the house, and the poor man died without the consolation of seeing his sister, and sending through her one parting message to his afflicted old mother. Alas, for white robes, made of materials to catch a stain so easily! Genoese or Genevan - let God judge betwen them - not us - but I am grieved when Christians do such unchristian deeds.

We were obliged to call in Dr. Monnet again this morning for poor Susanne, whose maladie has returned upon her. He proposes, in case she is not better in a day or two, to take her to the little Protestant hospital (at Turin) where he can see her more frequently, and where she can have the benefit of a better nurse than can be had elsewhere. I do not like the idea of sending a sick servant out of my house - a thing we have never done even in cases of very protracted illness - but this distance from a physician is a serious evil, and if Susanne is satisfied with the plan I shall be glad for the sake of the other servants who are getting restless under the confusion her sickness necessarily makes in the house. / The Dr. thinks he has found a house for us, and I hope it may turn out so. The proprietor is Count Farcito, a real man of honour upon whose word one may rely, and the apartment is next to his own - Casa del Diavolo -. (This sounds like a dangerous neighborhood, but Count Farcito himself has certainly no marks of pitch about him, and perhaps we may not suffer more than he seems to have done. Our news from America is so bad in every sense that we have not much heart to think about houses, or anything else that looks like having an abiding city. One doesn’t know which most to admire - the dull honesty, the weakness or the madness of our most unlucky President.

A very monotonous, but I hope not altogether unprofitable day. Mr Marsh and Carrie walked over to Baron Gautier’s just before dinner, the air being so very cool that they did not find it too warm. Carrie came back with glowing accounts of the nightingales and the crickets - the trees being filled with the music of the former, and the new-mown hay-fields with the latter.

The Dr’s visit was our only interruption today. He brings further information about Count Farcito’s apartment and we shall should try to take measures to secure it at once if the news from America were not so utterly disheartening. The manuscript gets on famously so far as the amount of work done each day is concerned - but the material to be used up is always receiving new additions, and I am afraid we shall not see the end of it before the end of June.

Our American paper, the N.Y. Times, received today, gives no countenance whatever to the idea that McClellan is to be recalled to the command of the Potomac army, nor does it speak of public affairs in the tone of discouragement which the false English journals, and the scarcely less false telegrams, would have led us to expect. Neither are our letters from home-friends more depressed than heretofore. There seems no disposition to give up the Ship. After receiving the Post we returned to our work with more courage - perhaps only to the stunned again by a new telegram of fresh disasters.

A close sultry day much like N.E. dog-days. Mr Artoni did not come to us, so the Pinerolo trip was given up. We worked till dinner, and after dinner sat on the terrace and watched the swallows as they flew in dancing circles around and above us. Who can help envying these happy creatures. Then the trees were gay with the bright finches - but for some reason or other the nightingales were silent. As the twilight faded into the pale silver of the moon-light the owls began their most melancholy cries, the human sounds from the village died away, and when we were ready to go to rest not a leaf stirred was stirring nor a living thing giving forth its voice except the sad night-bird.

Dr. Monnet pronounced his patient once more on the high road to recovery, and promises that she shall be as good as new in eight days unless something very unexpected occurs. In the course of the conversation the politics of Europe came up; and Mr Marsh broke forth into one of those sudden and earthquake-like explosions to which men of his usually self-restrained manner are sometimes subject. I am always diverted by the effect the eruption produces upon those who have never before seen anything in him but the most profound calm. The Doctor could not conceal his amazement nor his pleasure when my husband gave his opinion of the English government and the Prussian people. The course of the former he said, ‘had always been most basely selfish in all its dealings with foreign nations’ - that ‘its hypocritical cant about philanthrophy and christian principle was as shallow and transparent as it was impudent.’ Of the Prussian people - and of the Germans generally he said that ‘they lacked all true manhood’, that ‘they were a set of miserable poly-theists who worshipped their coarse aristocracy equally with their God,’ and that ‘they fully deserved for their weakness in ’48 to be treated as their King was now treating them’. Dr Monnet who as far as he understands politics at all is quite with us, was very unwilling to let the subject drop, but after a few sentences Mr Marsh subsided again into his ordinary calm, and I was much amused to watch the Dr’s vain efforts to rouse him once more. ’Twas plain enough that he wanted to get more to carry away, but the hurricane had gone by.

Carrie went to Turin to bring home Madeline Tottenham. It is so vexatious to the fettered by the intolerable convenances of European life. In America Carrie could have gone down in the train by herself and brought back her little friend without further circumstances. Here it was not enough that our footman was obliged to go down for Mr Marsh and could accompany her, but I must send my maid besides. Sometimes I am tempted to defy this nonsense altogether, but when I remember that the freedom of our young girls could not exist in a country where the young men were not brought up to respect that freedom, my judgment shows me that I must yield to public sentiment. My eyes held out for a two hours examination of manuscript; the rest of the day was good for nothing for me, of course. We had specially interesting letters from America today on political subjects. One from Mr Norton - another from Mr Homes.

Mr Marsh went to town this afternoon to dine at the French Minister’s. The Diplomatic Corps generally were present. Several persons con belonging to the Ministry - as Menabrea Peruzzi &c. and the Mesdames. Mr Marsh took out the Countess Alfieri. The dinner passed agreeably. There was considerable aside-chuckling over the success of the opposition in the Paris elections. Everybody seems to think the emperor in a critical position, and the last news from Mexico will not tend to soothe him. Mr Marsh passed an hour with Dr. and Mrs Doremus after dinner, He was charmed with the latter. Dr Doremus is here on some business connected with his powder invention. I am sorry we are not in town, and in a situation to show them some attention. This post brought a letter from Mr Stillman at Rome containing statements which, if there is no mistake about them, ought to send certain of our representatives in Italy back to their our country in disgrace. It is really humiliating to see what an influence flattery and fashion can exercise over some of our people. That Mr Blatchford, with his previous connection with Archbishop Hughes, and with his utter ignorance of Italian politics and Italian history, should be befooled by the misrepresentations of an interested and cunning banker, and by the cajoling of an aristocratic priesthood, does not surprise me. But Mrs Blatchford, with a head stronger than her husband’s and far more enlightened - I hoped better things of her. We shall still try to believe that the rumors that have reached us from Florence of Mr Laurence’s sympathy with the cause of the fallen Grand Duke, are incorrect, but oh, that we could have men of knowledge and brains and principle to represent us in Europe, especially in such a time as this! Poor Italy in this her desperate struggle to cast off the chains and draw out the iron that has pierced her soul for so many ages, - that she should have the influence of the land of Washington against her!

There was nothing to mark the day of any particular variety, and we pursued our weary way as cheerfully as we might through some portion of the ever increasing pile of manuscript. Mr Marsh gets so desperate sometimes that I am almost afraid of his committing a libricide in some moment of more than usual fatigue.

After our usual day’s work we turned over a pile of Washington papers of dates from the 10th to the 19th. There were certainly some encouraging things but we felt greatly saddened to find so many names of old acquaintances in the list of sufferers in some form or other from this black rebellion. I will not say God reward the projectors and abettors of it as they deserve for this would bring upon them too fearful a judgment. While we were reading Carrie and her little friend went out with Giacchino to see the Corpus Domini procession. They describe it as a pretty sight - there being something of distinctive costume still left in these little villages. The syndic’s daughter especially was very gay in silk and gold beads, but even she was outshone by a girl who had received a legacy of a couple thousand francs or so from a master or mistress whom she had served. Silk and gold beads seem to be the objects of special ambition, and these two enviable damsels wore several strings of the latter of very large size almost covering the bosom from the neck to the waist. Our little Maria invited the young ladies into her father’s house, showed them her silk-worms, her little flower and vegetable garden, and finally insisted on their taking wine with the family. This was done with a very ceremonious hob-a-nob, after which the girls came home. I am very much pleased to have Carrie get an opportunity now and then to see something of the inside of peasant life here, and now that she can speak with them easily she will be able to get a good deal of information about their modes of life and thought. The silk-worm disease is committing dreadful ravages everywhere in Piedmont. It is really sad that these poor creatures should work so hard and lose all their labour at the last moment. Our little Maria is a degree above most of her class. She can read and write, and says her father would have liked that she should learn a great deal more, but the priests would not let her. ‘They always put her back to the beginning of the same book when she had finished it, and would never let her learn anything else.’

The morning went as usual - manuscript work, and then post, then a little lounging, and then dinner. Just before dinner I took up Emerson’s Threnody, and it never struck me as so beautiful before. In imagery and thought both it is exquisite, and I only wonder that the poet should fancy that the consoling thoughts suggested in it are ‘beyond the reach of Bible etc’. I am afraid he has not yet learned all the wisdom of that book.

Sad news from home again - John’s dear little Charlie gone - but I must try to keep in part my resolution not to write of private griefs such are not likely to be forgotten - need no paper record. Nor did the sad news come alone - with it came also the tidings of Alex’s release and safe arrival home. May he not have escaped a prison to die on a battle field.

Carrie went home with Madeline this morning to spend two or three days during the Festa. Oh this long, long wearying illness of mine has its compensations. I am not forced to participate in gaieties from which my heart is now so far. Mr Marsh & I had a [illegible] very quiet day by ourselves, most of the servants even have gone to town for the Statuto Festa.

Mr Marsh brought back from town this morning his usual political Job’s post. Instead of the details of the “grandi successi” obtained by Grant on the Mississippi, we have a telegram announcing his complete defeat before Vicksburg with a loss of five thousand men. This telegram comes through our enemies and there is, no doubt, much exaggeration about it, but at any rate it does not look much like a great success. It is also stated that Lee is crossing the Rappahannock to attack Maryland & Pennsylvania. If he would take Washington, and with it some of the imbeciles who control affairs there and keep them and their more guilty associates who know better but who basely sacrifice the blood & treasure of their country to their own hopes of being raised to greater power - if Lee would take these & keep them or hang them out of the way of better men, there might still be a hope of saving our country so as by fire - It has often been asked which does the most mischief a knave or a fool - who dares answer?

Carrie came back from town at 1/2 past 5 P.M. bringing with her Miss Arbesser & Mr de Bunsen. The former I was quite prepared for as a guest for the night, but the latter I had supposed would return by the eight evening train. He however did not know there was such a train and when one lives in a castle one has plenty of house-room, so we were most happy to have him stay also. Miss Arbesser seemed delighted to with our country-home and the still Leben we are enjoying here. “I felt the repose of the whole house before I had been in it five minutes,” she said. “How do you and Mr M. manage to pervade every thing about you with such a calm!” Poor, dear girl! She certainly knows little quiet now. A few hours every day she is with her princess alone, but every evening from 6 to 8 she must drive with her pour la faire voir, and when H.R. H. is in bed at nine she must go to some rèunion or something of the sort, and as she says herself, ‘auf dieser Weise man verliert sich sich selbst.’ Most of all she complains of the petty court-intrigues, of the mutual distrust and dislike which exists everywhere among all connected with the court, and the general want of all liberality of feeling among the Piedmontese aristocracy. She insists that the arrogance of the Piedmontese towards the Neapolitans is incredible & intolerable at Naples, and that the Neapolitans in their turn hate them almost to frensy. She does not think there is the least change for Frances again in Naples - thinks the visit of the Duchess & her children has done muct [much] to increase the feeling of loyalty to the house of Savoy, but that things are far from promising there. She is charmed with the [illegible] culture & talent she found there - so much more intellectual activity than at Turin, so much more real emancipation. The Piedmontese in the suite of the Duchess would not even admit the great natural beauty about N. and were continually fretting to get back - not to their own beautiful mountains, few of them seem to know they have any - but to their own narrow circle of associations & habits. Even The Duchess herself at first looked scornfully on all she saw, but even a royal education has not been able to stultify her, and she could not fail at last to grow warm with admiration. Then she tried to please, her lovely children were powerful aids, the people took to her and she left, seeing every thing [illegible] couleur de rose. I asked Miss Arbesser if she could learn anything really trustworthy at Naples with regard to the character of the ex-queen. She said that it was next to impossible to find out the real truth. She was satisfied however of one thing - that whatever might be her character now, she came to the Neapolitan court a beautiful, high-spirited, high souled young creature, hoping to be happy herself, and believing she should make a great many others so. What that court, a stultified husband and her misfortunes had made her she would not venture to say. The universal testimony of Naples sustains the good character usually given to Marie Christine of Savoy the mother of the unfortunate Francis. She was truly good in spite of her bigotry, but Marie Thérèse, who on the deth death of the former became the step-mother of Francis, had more than her bigotry with none of her virtues. She seems to have exerted herself to the utmost to extinguish the little spark of intellect which the future heir possessed. I was surprised to hear Miss Arbesser speak with such severity of a princess of the House of Austria, but she did not spare her. She mentioned the fact that the palace at Naples is still full of rich objects, the private property of the Bourbons - family miniatures set in diamonds, splendid bridal presents, &c &c, and regrets that they are not sent to the banished family. In this I think she is right, provided it is certain that the diamonds would not soon be used to fit out fresh swarms of brigands. Miss A_ . told many curious things about the preparation of the young princess Marguerite for her first communion, which she received last sunday. She could not restrain her expressions of indignation at the conduct of Madam Marguerite’s [illegible] confessor. She says the poor child was at times in an agony of fear, not at the idea of any actual moral wrong of which she had been guilty, but about some most ridiculous scrupule that the Jesuit had put into her head. For instance she said she was afraid she did not understand all that the confessor said, and that she was afraid she might go to the Communion with some dreadful sin upon her of which she was ignorant. “Can you tell me, dear Miss Arbesser what he meant by asking me if I kept on my chemise when I bathed. Could it be a sin if I did or did not?” Miss Arbesser was enraged, and went to the Duchess who was no less furious, but what was to be done? To complain of the priest was to betray the confidence of the child, and so lose all chance of continuing to learn the truth from her, and so being able to counteract the poison of this accursed confession. Little Prince Thomas, who is only nine years old, told his sister some time ago when she was but eleven, that Monsieur L’abbé (his confessor) had explained to him why it was very improper that she should wear a dress that left her neck and arms uncovered, and he hoped she would not do so any more. This is Jesuit dealing with children in the nineteenth century, and in the last half of it, too! Our conversation was aside when Miss A__ . told me these things, but she gave me to understand that she had much more to tell of their instructions to the Prince and Princess, and I think she means someday to make use of the information her position has enabled her to acquire. I was sorry to learn that in the midst of Prince Umberto’s triumph in Milano he was led by the ill advice of his former governor to do a most un-princely thing. He had sent a message to Duke Litta that he would come and breakfast with him at his villa on a certain day. The duke prepared a magnificent colazione, decorated his grounds etc at an expense of 40000 francs. In the meantime the Prince was told that the wife of the duke was the comtesse de Montfort of Paris, a lady whose reputation had suffered much before her marriage. Thereupon the former gouverneur went directly to the Duke and enquired if the Duchess would appear at the colazione. The Duke replied: “Assurément, l’hôtesse n’y manquera pas.” “Then” said the gentleman, “I am sorry to say His Royal Highness will find himself under the necessity of declining to honour your feast with his presence.” “Very well,” said the Duke, “but with or without the Prince I shall be always Duke Litta, and my wife the Duchess Litta. When the King heard of the circumstance he was as angry as he ever allows himself to be, removed instantly the former gouveneur from his present position (which I do not precisely know) about the Prince, and asked ‘why, if there was any thing in the social relations of the Duchess in Milan that made it unadvisable for the Prince to go there, it it was not discovered before the proposal to go there was made. But even if it had become necessary afterward to stay away to avoid disagreeable complication, why was not he, the king, advised in order that he might have summoned the prince to Turin on some affair of business and so saved the Duke and Duchess a positive insult!’ While we were gossiping of the Court Mr de Bunsen was not idle, and I fancy if Mr Marsh kept a record as full as I have this time it would be found that a man can talk as fast as a woman. I [illegible] caught a few things while Miss A__ . was taking breath. Among other scraps this. De Bunsen, the father made the acquaintance of William B. Astor many years ago when they were both young. They set out in company to travel together as far as Rome. Mr Astor soon associated to himself other companions who did not suit the taste of De Bunsen. He remonstrated, Astor would not yield the point, and they parted in wrath. Many a long year after when they were both comparatively old men, Mr Astor being in Europe went to see the Chevalier de Bunsen. They dined, walked and talked together, no allusion being made to the past. After Mr Astor left Mr de Bunsen received a note from him inclosing a draft on his Banker for 50,000 francs - a christmas gift to the daughters of the great scholar. I was very glad to hear this, and wish for Mr Astor’s sake he would do such things oftener.

Our guests retired late last night, with their heads full of the wonderful experiences of De Brassier here, and of his circle, and I really believe Miss Arbesser was relieved when she found she was not to sleep on the side of the house nearest the old tower. Poor de Brassier! It is melancholy to hear the tales they tell of the manner in which he is imposed upon by the false beauty into whose hands he has unluckily fallen. De Bunsen gave such a history of the poor Count’s terror when he found that etiquette obliged him to be one of the pall-bearers at the funeral of his collegue Lannoy as would be really ludicrous if any thing could be ludicrous connected with death on the one hand and a wild fear of it on the other. But I must not go back to my gossip. It was arranged that Mr de Bunsen and Miss A__. were to return in the carriage as they came, leaving at six, taking only a cup of coffee before setting out. Carrie went to Miss Arbesser soon after five, but the bird was flown. She had been for more than an hour wandering about the garden and the meadows, enjoying this one only day of liberty, or rather half day, which she has had for nearly two years, and for all this confinement, and for all this care she receives only 2,000 francs a year. What should we say to this in America. I have no doubt she sometimes receives handsome presents, as for instance from the king when she was going to Naples, but she told me frankly that she was obliged to send to her father for money. She says she very seldom sees the King, but the better she understands the royal family the more highly she prizes his good sense, his good faith, and his great heart, neither of which virtues have the Jesuits been able to extinguish in him, though they have succeeded in leading him in to gross vice. By the way a letter was received by the family on Monday from the Queen of Portugal written apparently in the expansion of her heart. She says she is so happy, so happy. Her handsome young husband is very much devoted to her, she is very little fettered by etiquette, and I have no doubt is very happy. In fact the daughters of the House of Savoy rank high among the virtuous princesses of Europe, and Princess Clotilda and Marie have been fortunate in finding husbands to appreciate their goodness. Who would have thought that Prince Napoleon would treat his wife with an affectionate tenderness that should make her the envy of most of the her royal sisters. When we sat down to the breakfast table at nine all quiet by ourselves as usual the visit and the gossip and the earnest talk and all, seemed to me quite like a dream. In fact during the hour or two that I slept I was in fancy in Turin, and the Arconatis’a, the Colegna’s, the Littas, the King, the princes, the princesses, Naples, the Bourbons, Garibaldi, - everything was all so jumbled together that it was not strange that all alike should have seemed a dream. Among the interesting things we talked of last evening were the remarkable discoveries lately made by Mr. de Bunsen’s brother-in-law, Mr Wadrington, in the region east of Damascus - a great number of christian villages abandoned for many many centuries, but still in a state of fine preservation. The number of inscriptions - and to these the traveller devotes himself exclusively, - is very large and very curious. I infer, though he did not say so, that the Christians were dislodged from these villages by the Mahomedans and that the country has since been left entirely desolate. In some districts however there must be a small christian population still, as Mr Wadrington states that he saw a religious service celebrated in a church that was built in the 4th century. His narrative will no doubt be of the highest interest. This reminds me that our King has just sent a medal to Speake [Speke] and Grant for their late discoveries in Africa. The very elegant Egyptian pasha - who after making very earnest enquiries about the rivers of our country, and being told of the length and breath of the Mississippi, said with great gravity - “Ah, no doubt that great river is in some way connected with our Nile”, - will now have to give up that point as Messers Speake and Grant have proved to the contrary.

We fell back into the old hard-working way today. The weather is rainy and cold - one does not often see a more autumn-like day even in a New England June. This evening we had the N.Y. Times containing an account of the capture of Vicksburg - contradicted alas, by later telegrams. Our home-letters full of anxieties and tears. ‘Would to God we were in our own Country,’ we often say and as often add, ‘but no doubt it is best as it is.’ Miss Blackwell writes that she will be here early next week. When she is in a house she leaves little time for its inmates to think their own thoughts, and perhaps it will be well for us to be thoroughly stirred up for a little while, though I must try to protect Mr Marsh in his sanctum. I dont know what she’ll find to write about here to enlighten enliven her newspaper letters. We can give her some information about the rural economy of Piobesi, can give her an opportunity to study natural history in our menagery, which offers very numerous specimens of the winged world, and some quadrupeds. She may learn that it is the manner of the Piobesans to take the young chickens from their mamma as soon as they are hatched, and by placing fresh eggs under the hen cheat her into another patient brooding of weeks, then repeat the theft, again substituting fresh eggs, until the poor creature is completely wasted away, when they leave her to bring up her last brood herself if she has life enough left to do it. In the meantime the young ones are sold two sous apiece to such as may choose to by and give their own time to the little hatchlings. It is said that one of our old Vermont governors once told his wife by way of comfort that ‘a hen’s time wasn’t worth much’, but it seems that a Piobesan values his own at still less. We have a brood of these poor little shivering creatures which Alex took out of pity, and which must be wrapped every night in cotton-wool, and are as much care as a farmer’s baby.

The weather which for the last month has been very unsettled has I hope reached its climax of illnature today. It began raining about eleven with a cold north east wind which soon brought the thermometer from 64 to 56 Fahr. - thunder, lightning and wind continued for several hours, and at evening it seemed almost cold enough for a frost. No event of interest except an accident to my knee which threatens to add lameness for some time to my other infirmities. Carrie and I find consolation however in the prospect of t going to Cairo in search of our one-eyed Suleiman who has such extraordinary gifts in healing sprains.

After an unsuccessful attempt to stand this morning I concluded to resign myself to remaining in bed for the day, had Chapter III of the manuscript brought to me, and spent some hours in un-paging and paging it. As the dinner hour drew near I made one more experiment to see if I could get out to be at the table with Mr Clay and Mr Artoni whom we were expecting. To my astonishment I found every trace of the lameness gone and my knee as good as new - without having been to Cairo either. We had a pleasant time at dinner, Mr Clay told us something of his excursion for the last two months, and Mr Artoni seemed also in very good spirits. In the evening he continued the De Zyck [Zeyck] narrative. That witch of a woman by interesting a kind hearted Hungarian lady in her favour, has managed to get another thirty francs out of Mr Artoni. I am indignant that this thing should go on. The foolish woman sent a considerable part of the 1250 francs with which she was furnished three weeks ago, to her worthless husband and now she is literally begging from everyone with whom she has ever had the slightest relations, even of the man who sold her wood last winter! And yet she will not hear of going to a less expensive place, declares that Turin is nearer Taranto than Naples, that she has made both journeys, and doesn’t care what the maps say. Also that she knows that it costs more to live at Taranto than Turin having tried both! She says she doesn’t want anybody’s sympathy, though she should like to be furnished with a little more money. All this she said to the Hungarian lady who had just brought her the thirty francs from Mr Artoni, and who was remonstrating with her against her remaining any longer in her present position. The Hungarian told her that she too had known extreme poverty, that even now she had not been able to give her these thirty francs without asking a friend for it, a thing she certainly would not have done for herself, - “but,” she added, “when one sees that a position of this kind is becoming permanent, has already lasted for months without any prospect of improvement, one must rouse one’s self to some new effort, either return to friends who can give assistance, or put one’s self in circumstances where the expense will be less, and the possibility of earning something be greater. My husband preferred to sweep the streets of London rather than to ask charity for his family or suffer me to ask it. We were able even there to keep ourselves independent, then we went to your Country where we did well, were kindly treated, had an opportunity to earn a comfortably living, became American citizens, and now my heart warms towards every American, - but I must speak plainly and frankly with you.” And to this appeal she received the above replies.

We sent Gaetano to town early this morning to say to Miss Blackwell and her brother who had arrived two days sooner than we had expected them, that having friends with us for the night of Sunday we could not ask them to come till Monday morning. On receiving this note they drove out at once, dined with us and returned to town in the evening, Mr Blackwell’s business requiring them to leave for Paris tomorrow night. I am much disappointed, at having so short a visit from them. Mr Blackwell made a most favourable impression on us, and as to Anna I have not seen her appear so well since she left us in Burlington in 1838. She was calm and clearheaded, and appeared like her own self. She confirms all we have heard about the Hooker-Blatchford doings in Rome. This is really too much, and I hope Mr Marsh will some day be in a position to expose the baseness of some of our great political leaders in trying to secure the Irish Catholic vote of America, by sustaining the detested papacy at Rome. The information of the Blackwells was entirely voluntary, and as they said nothing about the action of American officials in Florence we asked no questions for conscience’s sake. Among the little incidental scraps from Anna I learned what I did not know before, but what it seems everybody else does know, that Fagnani, the admirable painter whom we like so much, the hero of the Dillon affair, is a son of Queen Cristina, a nephew of Bomba, and a cousin of Bombolino! Our prejudice has become rather strong against Bourbon royal blood, but here is a case of a man’s being a true man even though so closely linked with that family. Miss Blackwell had many interesting things to tell us of Paris gossip, of her presentation to the Emperor and Empress, of the very unfavourable impresson produced upon her by the latter - of the Daytons, of the Pikes, of the Bigelows, Doremuss’ &c. They left a little before nine.

Mr Marsh came home from Turin ganz verstimmt - the house we had hoped for would by no means answer - He found no time to go to the Library, - news from America not satisfactory, and worst of all our Re Galantúomo had condescended to congratulate the Emperor on his victory at Puebla! I would not have believed that Victor Emmanuel would have joined in this hurrah of triumph over a neutral nation, that happens to be too weak to be feared as an enemy. His family connection with France makes some shadow of excuse for him, but the wrong of the thing becomes manifest in an instant when it is considered that had this been a victory over Austria or Prussia or England no such felicitations would have been publicly made. So far England - be it jealousy or generosity - has forborne to join in these cowardly congratulations. The papers tonight look a little as if Prussia might at last be roused to some feeble show of resistance to the mad king, but illegible nobody supposes it will come to anything. Mr Marsh took poor Canzi’s autographs today, and furnished him with money to go to America He hopes to find some rich American who will give their real value for these Autographs, and that he shall be able to send Canzi a still further remittance for them. The young soldier was overwhelmed with gratitude and delight, but when he spoke of going to bid his mother goodbye he was too much overcome to finish his sentence. Mr Marsh has written to Mr Lawrence about the autographs and I sincerely hope he may take them. We can ill afford to keep them ourselves.

Giacchino returned from Turin at one bringing with her Miss Alice Tottenham who is to spend a few days with Carrie. I was not able to get up till towards evening, when I went into Mr Marsh’s cabinet and found him thoroughly worn out with twelve hours almost uninterrupted work. I tried to turn his thoughts from his book by talking of our home-affairs, picking out scraps from the N. Times, etc. and last of all succeeded by rousing his attention thoroughly by tempting him to take up the Saturday Review, - a paper the tone and temper of which are as disgraceful to modern civilization as are some of the principles it does not take the pains to conceal. One article in it however seemed scarcely too severe for the occasion. It was with reference to a speech made by Rev. of the Scotch Free Church, a member of the Committee on Popery, and the subject was an inscription which the Queen had ordered to be placed on a marble slab fixed in the cairn just erected at Balmoral in her own private grounds as a memorial of the late Prince Consort. The inscription was a singularly appropriate one taken from the Wisdom of Solomon - one of the Apocryphal Books. Such an exhibition of blind bigotry I should not have supposed was to be witnessed at this day in the Free Kirk of Scotland. And it seems that the Record, the Low Church organ, not only endorses the Bible-loving Scotchman’s bitter complaint, but takes occasion to throw the blame of this heathenish business on the Broad-churchmen who are the religious advisors of the Royal family.

The Daily News brought us the details of American battles to June 3rd leaving Grant after many heroic deeds, regularly besieging Vicksburg, but threatened in the rear. A telegram this evening states that Banks has been repulsed at Port Hudson with a loss of 4000 men. One ought not to say: nothing but repulses, after all the late victories by Banks and Grant, but certainly the strongholds of these rebels are very strong. The news of Alick’s release would give me some comfort if I did not know he was already sent to the scene of these terrible struggles, to take his chance for life or death, with so many thousand of others.

We did not even send for the Post today, not having any good news to expect at any rate. My eyes did me good service, allowing me to spend a great part of the day in looking over, paging, &c, the manuscript. The weather continues unsettled, showers with thunder occurring every day towards evening.

Yesterday and today there was an animated debate in Parliament, or rather an animated coll personal collision between Rattazzi on one side and Minghetti on the other. Rattazzi was very bitter, especially in his allusion to the fact that Minghetti had formally occupied a seat in the councils of the Holy Father, and Peruzzi in those of the grand duke, but Minghetti’s reply was most telling and eloquent, and brought down thunders of applause from the house and galleries. Rattazzi made little by this motion. - As usual, the regular thunderstorm came up this afternoon. The American intelligence through the Daily News is far more satisfactory than the picked telegrams we get through unfriendly sources.

Carrie and Alice went down to Turin this evening to be ready to see the fire-works to-morrow evening. Mr Marsh & I strolled into the garden after they drove off, and we soon met Carlo & Susanna arm in arm in one of the walks enjoying the sun-set-hour like ourselves. Another turn and we came upon Alexander and Giacchino with their hands full of feathered foundlings and followed by two pet kittens. As we came back to the house the gardener was sitting under the cloisters beside the tall rose-vine, his wife by his side, his baby on his arm, and the older boy leaning on his mother’s knee. We laughed as we counted up the Darbys and Joans that inhabit the Castle, and concluded that as that, [illegible] three of these faithful Benedicts, who were always so quiet and contented at home, were Italians, there must after all be some domestic happiness even among this race. - Our aviary now contains about fifty birds mostly stray ones found, which were too young to fly or feed themselves.

A lovely day but very cool for the season. We read Pilgrims Progress & curious old Selden - then papers and letters from home - then sat and talked under the sycamores, watched the birds and dreamed. Among the hundreds of swallows that alight about the terrace, the windows etc. is a pair that come every evening and sit, sometimes one, sometimes both, on a wire, in front of the drawing room balcony, that serves to support a grape-vine. Here within a couple of feet of us they twitter and plume themselves, and give us an excellent opportunity to study all their little ways for an hour. In the vine, a little to the right, is a nest of young goldfinches - most quiet, well-behaved birds. - The servants saw the fire-works at Turin very distinctly from the tower.

The weather seems settled at last and this evening we were able to remain on the terrace without chill till bed-time. It was wonderful to watch the retreat of one species of animal life and the reappearance of another as the twilight deepened. First the stornelli disappeared about sunset, then the finches by degrees ceased their noisy chirping in the plane trees & hazles, but the swallows, which now go to their nests much later than in the spring, continued their swift circles and sweeps, and their twittering and the sharp shrill cry they utter at this season, for at least half an hour after sunset. Then came the notes of the nightingales on our right and on our left - then a distant owl - and even the far-off croak of the frogs was not an unpleasant discord in this evening hymn. A little later, and hundreds of bats sallied out and chased the few mosquitoes that visit our premises, the great night beetles began to whiz over our heads, now and then a village dog barked sharply, a belated market cart rattled heavily over the paved piazza, and then came a pause to be broken anew, but every successive one becoming longer & deeper than the preceeding - How wonderfully soothing is the influence of nature! A few hours before I had been pained and agitated by a communication made me concerning the character of an Italian lady of rank and wealth to whom I had taken a great fancy - she is so graceful, so gentle and must, in her days of youth & health, have been most beautiful, After telling me that the Marchese __ had for many years been notoriously her lover (no objection being made on the part of the husband, who is one of those rare fools who are made humble by a consciousness of their folly) my friend said, “I have known this ever since you became acquainted with the lady, and in fact every resident of Turin knows it, but so long as there was no probability of your being much thrown together, I did not think it worth while to tell you as I know you do not relish such tales. Now, however, that there is a prospect that you may soon be so situated as to be often in her company, I thought it my duty to tell you what the world says”. Though I could not believe this story, woman-like I retold it to my husband who, after weighing the matter a moment, exclaimed, “Well! well! I thank God we are not like these publicans!” as naturally and as heartily as if the words had not been borrowed from one intended to serve, not as an example, but as a warning. The end of our deliberation was, that there might possibly be some truth in the story (for here all things are possible) but that more probably it was one of those scandals which the lowest class of of dependents of in Italy are constantly circulating about their superiors upon the most trivial cause of suspicion. The marvel is that these slanders are so readily believed by the peers of the subjects of them, and it must be admitted that this fact proves a bad social state. Still we are satisfied that more than one half the scandal current in high-life in Turin originates in tale bearing servants who either ignorently misinterpret or willfully misrepresent things that in our country would be regarded as most natural and innocent. On the whole I had rather believe that ‘all men are liars’ in the most literal sense, than that all men & women too are the whited sepulchres that vulgar rumor makes them. And under the soft twilight my charity grows broader, I contrasted a N.E. education and an Italian one - the teachings of a Puritan preacher and a popish priest, the marriage of choice and the marriage of convenance, until I was forced to the conclusion that these publicans were not worse than we Pharisees might have been under the same circumstances.

Mr Marsh went early to T. to see John Kasson - came back at twelve - with no especial news except that Minghetti and Rattazzi fought a duel Sunday morning - Rattazzi scratched in the arm, no other mischief. I am sorry M. condescended to this. Mr Kasson is here on Postal business - hopes to make some arrangements that will reduce foreign postage.

We sent the carriage to the Hotel Féder to bring Mr Kasson out to dine with us, and pass the night. I found him greatly changed from the self-conscious young man with whom I parted, fifteen years ago, just as he was going to officiate as groomsman at a bridal party in Washington. He is so much more in earnest than he then [illegible] was, has so many wider interests, profounder sympathies, that I could not help exclaiming to myself as I left him for the night, ‘Well, after all, life does something for some of us at least.’ We talked hours of home affairs and found our judgment here fully confirmed by his observation there. He feels little confidence in the removal of Halleck from his position, though he thinks it a consummation devoutly to be wished for. The feebleness of the President he assents to in full, perhaps thinks better of Mr Seward than some others do, but by no means defends him altogether. One anecdote he told me of Mr Seward which is curious. Mr. S. said to him at a private interview: “Is it not singular that the three persons in the world who most heartily wish for the prosperity of our Country are the heads of three great religions - the Czar of Russia, the Sultan of Turkey, and the Pope of Rome?” Does Mr Seward really suppose that the great Padisha troubles his head about what becomes of us? Does he really believe that the Czar of Russia and the Pope of Rome desire the success of institutions like ours? It is difficult to imagine that he has read history to draw such conclusions from it. The hours flew by so fast in talk of country, home, and friends, of European politics generally, of Mr Kasson’s own special aims with regard to Postal management, of his scheme for universal weights measures etc, that it was late before we remembered how early a breakfast we should be obliged to take in the morning.

This has been one of those cross-grained days which cannot be coaxed into good-humour. Nothing would go right. We were later in setting out for Turin than we had intended to be. When we arrived we found there had been a mistake made by Alexander as to the hour when we wanted our apartment and we had to take refuge in a little bed-room till a family should leave for Milan. In this way we lost an opportunity of showing Mr Kasson our king who came to pay a visit to the King Portugal King Ferdinand of Portugal. Of course we could not stand in the passage to gaze as the strangers did, and we were obliged to take our servants’ report. His Majesty came in a simple hunting-jacket with no token of royalty about him except the scarlet out-rider and his attendants. The Prince Carignano was in full uniform. Another disappointment was finding no note from Mrs Tottenham, and hearing nothing from Carrie. Then Mr Marsh, who had intended to spend the day in verifying his quotations at the University Library, found himself obliged to go with Mr Kasson to the Minister of Foreign Affairs at twelve. After his return a false tailor kept him waiting another hour, then a note sent to Count Farcito, who had written to ask Mr Marsh to go with him to see the remainder of his apartment, was not delivered for two hours after it was handed to the messenger, my unhappy husband waiting all the time in expectation of the Count’s arrival. Alex. was sent after Gaetano, and Giacchino nearly sent after Alexander. When the message finally came it was time for Mr Marsh to dress for the Diplomatic dinner at the Turkish Minister’s - so the day was utterly lost. Dressing commenced, he found himself minus a cravat, but luckily the strait colar of the uniform concealed the catastrophe, Nor was this the only miss, as we found out later. There was no night-gown in his night-sack - no toothbrush in mine - in short it was a day of crosses. Just as I was sitting down to the dinner-table with Mr Kasson I had the mortification to see Miss Arbesser drive out with the Duchess! I had supposed her in Stresa and therefore had not sent to the palace to say that I was in Turin which I had promised faithfully to do if she were still in town when I came there. I tried to forget all these contre temps in an animated talk with Mr Kasson. He told me when we were by ourselves, that he had been much struck with the opinions Mr Marsh and I had expressed the evening before on the subject of Roman Catholicism, that he must now tell me frankly he was afraid his wife was going over to that Church, that he had tried to persuade himself that it was a matter of little consequence, that much of what had been said about that religion was mere vulgar prejudices &c. but that his secret misgivings had been greatly aggravated by what we had said, and he earnestly wished I could see and talk with his wife before it was too late. He seemed a good deal agitated, and I felt truly grieved at what he had said. I told him, however, of certain Catholic books on the subject of the confessional, which I should advise him to put in Mrs Kasson’s hands, as he had told me that confession was the most attractive thing to the mind of his wife in the Romish system. There is a weakness in the talk of Protestant women on this subject that almost makes one lose one’s temper. For Mr Kasson’s own benefit I strongly recommended to him Michelet’s “Le Prêtre et la Famille.” Perhaps the best safeguard for her may be to strengthen his convictions and increase his knowledge on this point. We talked of nothing else till he took his leave except when we were interrupted by other visitors. Mr Marsh returned about ten - dinner rather agreeable, though all the guests were indignant at having been obliged to wear uniform. Neither Russia nor Prussia was there, - a circumstance which created some surprise considering the present state of diplomatic relations. Sir James was there, to every body’s astonishment. Mr Marsh sat between Minghetti and Perruzzi with Count Sartiges in front. I notice that Mr Marsh’s admiration for Minghetti as an earnest and able man, rises at every new interview - . Just before going to bed we discovered that no order had been given for the carriage to meet us at the station of Candiolo at half past twelve in the morning. This made it necessary to send Gaetano by the first morning train, and we gave orders accordingly. After retiring to our room and talking over quietly the events of the day, my disappointment in not finding the Marchese in town to take the long-talked-of photograph, the mistake about Miss Arbesser, and the failure to see other friends, Mr Marsh concluded it would be better to sacrifice another day rather than to fail altogether in the main objects of our visit to town. Accordingly it was settled that instead of disturbing the servants to countermand orders already given, Mr Marsh should see Alexander in time to prevent his doing the marketing for the day, and then the matter of the carriages was of little consequence. On this conclusion we went to sleep, but at a very late hour.

Mr Marsh rose early according to the arrangement, but Alex, who I believe never got up so early before except on a journey, was already off to market, and before our breakfast, the meats, fruits etc. for a dinner in Pióbesi were already on their way to the station. So it seemed the fates were against us, and I decided to return at twelve with Carrie, as first settled, and leave Mr Marsh to come back by the five train. So I sent for Carrie while we were at breakfast, but like all the rest of our luck on this occasion, she wasn’t ready, Giacchino had to wait and pack her things though she had not a moment to spare, then drove furiously back to shuffle our things into our carpet-bags, and to run out and look for her own lost parasol. The carriage was sent back for Carrie who came in course of time with Mrs Tottenham and Alice - I had a hurried moment’s talk with Mrs T. about houses to be rented, and in the meantime Mr Marsh returned from his exploration with Count Farcito. He reported unfavourably of that apartment, Mrs T. kindly undertook to enquire further about Villamarina rooms. Carrie, who had dashed out with the maid in search of a pair of boots, now came back, and I waited for Mr Kasson’s promised morning visit to say goodbye, but here was another failure - he was too late, and I can say I was truly thankful after so many petty discomfortures to find my face set towards Castle Quiet, and glad enough was I to reach it, though my summer’s experience had taught me that in Italy at least one has to pay a price for such a luxury. A most odd character, who was our companion in the rail-way compartment, deserves notice. As soon as we took our seats he began to talk to us in a hurried and excited manner. He said he was an impiegato in the household of Prince Otho at Genoa, that he had temporary leave of absence which he was employing in taking some very handsome furniture to a little country-seat of his not far from Pignerol. He then entered into a description of the prince - his person, his character, his habits, his tastes, his studies, - showed us some rings, antiques he said, which were the gifts of his royal patron, then told us about his father, his fine brothers, his lost wife, his two-year old bimbo, his three horses, and his big dog, and his uccelli Americani, and all this without a question on our part. My first impression was that the [illegible] man was mad, my second, that he might be some sort of vice-major-domo of the Prince’s household. At any rate if he was a born gentleman, he is now unquestionably mad. I left him at Candiolo with a buon viaggo, but certainly without regret. At six Mr Marsh came without having experienced any new crosses. We were glad enough to be all safely together once more with the additional cause of congratulation that neither masters nor servants had lost their tempers whatever else had gone wrong.

We tried to call back into the old routine today, but there must always be at least one lost morning after such a little flurry in a life so quiet as is ours here. Mr Artoni brought the post at six, but there was no news of importance - only one feels all the time as if on the eve of great events. England and France can scarcely suppress their growls at each other - Prussia seems on the point of exploding - Italy hopes Hungary will bestir herself and manage to occupy Austria so that she (Italy) may seize Venetia. She also hopes that France may be got into a war with Russia, and so make the friendship of Italy important enough to induce the emperor to withdraw his troops from Rome. In the meantime one of the English Admiralty Courts, in the face of all the legal interpreters and of the [illegible] action of England for the last eighty years, has decided that there was no law in England to prevent the fitting out of Alabamas etc. provided the armament is not put on board in the port from which they sail. It is true there is an appeal from this decision, but it is nevertheless a sign of the times, and will cause fresh irritation on our side.

This morning a telegram announces the invasion

of Pennsylvania by Gen. Lee, and the call of the President for 150,000 additional troops. This is precisely of a piece with the rest of the management at Washington. Hooker has told them over and over that Lee was preparing to enter Maryland and Pennsylvania, but the President thought perhaps he wouldn’t do it, and he would wait before calling for troops to see how the Vicksburg siege should turn out! Would to Heaven that Lee could get into his possession some of these men who are such nightmares upon us. If he should however Jeff. Davis would order them to be instantly released and restored to their position. This telegram comes to us without a word from Vicksburg or Port Hudson from which we infer that there is at least no bad news from that quarter, there never being any delay in transmitting such. The New York Times of the 12th however does not speak of the seige of Vicksburg with much confidence - talks of the strength of the place, of the length of time that may be required, and the great danger to Grant from Johnstone in his rear. Our warm day closed with a gentle shower, very refreshing, but not wet enough to prevent Mr Artoni from returning to Turin.

At one o’clock the maccaroni merchant and his wife, who were tenants of that part of the Casa d’Angennes just below our kitchen, came puffing and panting from Candiolo with a message from the Contessa Ghirardi to this effect: She was tired out with the endless vexations she had had with the tenants of her handsome apartment since we left it, and that she was now quite ready to make us the same proposal which we had offered to accept last Spring. The two new rooms she says will be completed and ready to be occupied by the 1st of September, at which time she promises us possession. We are quite at a loss how to understand this. It may be in good faith, it may be a mere trick to play us off against the minister of grace and justice who had made her an offer for the house. Then again, we had just recommenced negotiations for the apartment of the Countess Villamarina, and I can scarcely help feeling a little vexation at the Countess Ghirardi, even if she is in earnest, for having kept us so long in search of other houses, and leaving us to give other people so much trouble. I sent her word, however, that she had in her possession the proposal made her by Mr Marsh last Spring, that if she was disposed to accept it she would be kind enough to write us a note to that effect. We should consider the affair settled and Mr Marsh would go to her at once to talk over some of the details of the contract. We shall be too happy if we can really get this house once more with its two additional rooms, but we have learned the ways of the Turiners so well that we shall be but little disappointed to find we are only played with again. With the exception of this rather welcome interruption we passed the day in our usual occupations. It has now become so warm that we can safely and comfortably sit on the terrace till bed-time, and we find an untiring amusement in watching the frolics of the birds, especially the troop of swallows, though I often wish for some experienced naturalist to tell me what they mean. Our aviary has increased immensely in population, but the naughty jays have made war on some of the rest of the birds, eaten the eggs of the ring-doves, and even killed some sparrows, so that we have been obliged to divide the “Happy Family.” The nightingales also are favoured with a separate apartment, so that we have no less than three bird-rooms. A young sparrow who had been brought to us two or three days before and could not fly very well was missing one morning, and supposed to have been destroyed f by the jays, as the wire netting across the windows was too fine to allow a bird to escape. Two days after the little fugitive was seen on the outside of the window, and came in at once through a broken mesh which had not been noticed before, but through which it seemed impossible that the little creature could force its way. He took his breakfast with satisfaction, and again went off. On his second return Aleck caught him, and brought him down to us and told the story. I took him in my hand and he seemed so quiet and tame that I held him losely. Suddenly, however, he gave me the slip and was out of the window in an instant. An hour’s pursuit followed. He was chased from tree to tree, from vine to vine, but without being caught, and we all thought its fright was so great that it would never return to the house. Next morning, though, to our joy, the pretty little creature came for his breakfast as usual.

Mr Kasson came out to dine with us at five Mr Marsh having previously returned from Turin at twelve - the latter went to see the Countess G. who promised good fashions, and says she will have the contract drawn up at once, only she would like to see our maitre d’hôtel first to show us what extra cellar-room she can give us in place of the coachhouse which she wishes to retain. He left her however with the impression that she was witch enough to raise fresh difficulties, and very likely would do so. This evening we spent in a long and most interesting talk with Mr Kasson chiefly about our Country. We stayed on the terrace till after ten, the great round moon looking down upon us with a calm and glorious light.

After an almost sleepless night on my part we breakfasted at seven and set off for Turin - a party of five. Mr Kasson returned to his hotel, Mr Marsh and I went to look over the Villamarina house, and Aleck and Giacchino went to the Casa d’Angennes. We found the Villamarina apartment very handsome as Mr Marsh had told me, and I should think it would prove more convenient than he at first supposed. The Count and Countess however kept carefully out of the way, and there was no one left about the house to give us any information. There is evidently a scheming at the bottom of this management, and I fancy we shall find them not much more open in their dealings than the Ghirardi. We returned to the Legation in good humor with the house, and in bad humor with its owners. At the Legation Alessan and Giacchino met us with their report from the d’Angennes. Madame told them at first she could not see them, then being reminded that they came by her own appointment all the way from Piobesi, she consented to talk with them a moment. She declared however that she couldn’t give us any cellar, that she couldn’t even let us have the soffitta we had before, that she couldn’t make out the contract for some days, that she must take away the clocks etc. etc - in short they left her with a feeling of ‘general contempt’, and a conviction that if we get the house at all, it must be exactly upon her own terms. We returned to Piobesi full of the idea that renting a house in Turin was as formidable a business as the taking of Vicksburg. Mr Kasson came to see us again in the evening. We had another long talk on the terrace, in a moonlight by which we could have read distinctly, and with a temperature one could not wish to change the fraction of a degree.

Mr Kasson and I spent two or three hours this morning in a somewhat energetic discussion of New England theology, and New England education generally. It is curious to see how inclined we are to attribute all the mistakes, the follies, even the sins, of our lives, to a faulty training. Then we run in the other direction with our own children, and they in turn think we made monstrous blunders, and either go back to the faith of their grandfathers, or try a third way still to be blamed again by their descendants. In one respect I hope we have been of some use to Mr K. - that of enlightening him a little with regard to the real workings and the real teachings of the Romish Church. We have shown him their own testimony, quoted their own authoritative documents, called his attention to the testimony in the trial of the Ignorantelli, just finished in Turin. By the way, this trial results in the conviction of three who had been caught, one being sentenced to five years in the Penetentiary, the other two let off by the withdrawal of the prosecution by the parents. Father Théoger and two of his associates are sentenced to fifteen years imprisonment, but as they have made their escape the sentence is simply a disgrace, not a punishment. At one o’clock two very young gentlemen, Brewers from Springfield, came from town to see us. They were so young that when one of them told me the other had served six months in the Virginian Campaign it seemed to me almost incredible. I was shocked in talking further with this young man, to find that his health was utterly broken down by this service, that he was even now daily bleeding at the lungs, that the sea-voyage had injured rather, than benefited him, and, that though he was better since leaving the ship, there was small chance of his being well again. They both interested me but more particularly the invalid who was so modest that he would not talk of his own experiences, but whose whole heart seemed still in the terrible contest. In the evening the Baroness Gautiers came and took Mr Kasson’s place on the terrace. She looked pale and ill, but was sweet and graceful as ever, and full of kind words and gentle thoughts. The telegrams say, as we knew they would, that the invasion story was greatly exaggerated, the object of the dash into Pennsylvania being to cover an attempt on Washington. Lee is said to be within 40 miles of that city, and if nothing worse happens to us than the capture of a portion of the residents of that city it will not be a very bad affair. The news is favourable from Vicksburg, although there is nothing decisive.

The weather has at last become thoroughly summery, a circumstance which would be very delightful to me if it had not also brought with it one of Egypt’s worst plagues - the plague of flies. Except in Egypt I really never have seen them anywhere so well nigh intolerable. Mr Marsh complains that they interfere so much with his writing that he cannot accomplish one half as much in the same time as he could in early Spring. They light on his eyelids, on his inkstand, on the very point of his pen while it is in motion, in short they are everywhere and on everything. They devour the water-colours Carrie is using, which would be a comfort if their numbers were such that the destruction of a few offered any relief, but their numbers are like the armies in the Revelation. All this comes from the vilest of Italian customs, having the stables so near the house. As the heat increases it threatens to drive us altogether from the terrace, the large flagstones that pave it becoming so heated during the day that the reflection

at night is still very considerable. For two evenings I have seen, after the swallows, the finches, etc. had disappeared for the night, and the bats and the beetles and the fire-flies had taken their place, a huge owl leave the tower and take his slow and solemn flight down towards some tree in the garden - another fancy of my childhood realized.

Mr Clay and Mr Kasson came out to dine with us and to spend Sunday. We hoped for a telegram that should cheer us up a little on this our National Festa, but none came. The gentlemen however tried to hope themselves and make us hope that the flag which floated so gaily from the old tower here was also streaming over Vicksburg. Mr Kasson gave us a most interesting account of his experiences active and passive immediately after the Bull Run affair. The evening was delightful in temperature, and a very curious phenomenon appeared an hour or more after sunset. A vast cumulous cloud extending from the South.W. toward the N.E. like an arch almost over our heads, with the billowy edge turned in the direction where the sun had disappeared, shone with a dazzling, silvery light almost as powerful as that of the full moon. The moon however did not rise till about midnight, and this strong light on the cloud must have come from the sun already so long below the horizon. Of course the cloud was at an immense height while we were looking wonderingly at it. The edge furthest from the sun, grew darker, the lightnings began to play in it, clouds from the south rolled up to meet it, and very soon the flashes of lightning were so frequent and so brilliant as almost to blind us. The effect however on the old tower and on all the objects about us was so striking that we could not make up our minds to leave the terrace till a pelting rain at last forced us to exchange it for the hall at the head of the staircase, through the open arches of which we could look out over the viny balcony into the garden, and down upon the village.

Our visitors soon after breakfast this morning strayed away by themselves, each with a volume of Robertson’s sermons. I had previously spoken of them to Mr Kasson, and was now surprised to find that Mr Clay had stumbled upon them last winter while they were left at the Legation, and really expressed an earnest wish to read them more carefully than he had been able to do then. I thought as he strolled down into the garden so quietly with the book in his hand, how different that from my preconceived idea of the young Kentuckian we were to have for a secretary. Later Mr Kasson and I had another animated discussion on private judgment etc, then of the sermon he had been reading, then of more general matters, and the dinner-hour came so unexpectedly that this at least could not be called a long and tiresome Sunday. After dinner came the telegram, but alas, not the one we hoped for - not a word from Vicksburg, but only that the rebels were prosperously advancing further and further into Pennsylvania, and were already near Harrisburg. I can’t help asking, since it seems we have no men, where are the women and children? When such news comes my longing to go home is indescribable. Not that I have the vanity to suppose Mr Marsh could do more than many others, but because I am ashamed to be absent at such a time. We might at least go out into the streets, and cry aloud. We swallowed the disappointment as well as we could, all trying to cheer each other with the hope that no news from Vicksburg was good news, and that a thorough scare wouldn’t hurt the copperheads of Pennsylvania, and might possibly wake up some of our high officials to another spasmodic effort, even though there might be no chance of ever inspiring them with any steady energy. In the course of the evening Mr Kasson incidentally spoke of the old Bourbon, now so much used in America. I thereupon told him the history of two dozen bottles which we had imported from New York, and distributed for the most part among acquaintances - that one bottle had been opened when we first came out to Piobesi but was still sufficiently well filled to allow me to offer a punch both to himself and Mr Clay. The proposal was evidently not unacceptable to the two gentlemen, and the necessaries were soon provided. The old Bourbon was drunk patriotically, and I fancy neither of them will be f so much annoyed by the birds tomorrow morning as they were this.

Our two friends, as I expected, slept well, and did not even complain of headache this morning. They went to town by the 8.30 train, and left us to go over some chapters of the manuscript positively for the last time. To make this the more sure we sealed up each division as we went through it, and at evening had the satisfaction to see one third of the pile laid aside for good. In the course of the day we received the contract and inventory from the Dame d’Angennes who is once more in the melting mood, but I dare say by Wednesday, the day fixed for signing, she will get up some new crotchet and throw the whole thing into pie again. Of all diseases I believe that of insanity to be the most widely spread. The papers this evening are full of a supposed plot at Rome against the life of the Emperor. Whether this is a reality or a scheme got up by the party of action in Italy to stir up the Emperor against the pope, or whether it is a device of the Emperor to serve as an excuse for something he wants to do, it is impossible to say now, and very likely the truth may never be known. England is said to be trying to persuade the mad king of Prussia to resign - no doubt purely from the disinterested motive of seeing a better man in his place! Greece is in a state of military insurrection. How far the trouble will go it is impossible to say. The murder of Radama II of Madagascar is attributed by the English to French intrigue, I suppose by way of offset to the French accusations against the English in the matter of the Suez canal. It isn’t hard to believe all each says of the other. The recent discoveries at Pompeii are of a very interesting character. The Gazzetta today describes a beautiful little head of Juno in silver, a very perfect bronze candelabra, and various other choice objects found within a day or two.

C. and I were alone all day, Mr Marsh being in Turin. We looked over one chapter of the manuscript, and then betook ourselves to the more amusing occupation of painting. With my usual imprudence I allowed Carrie nearly to extinguish her eyes, but fortunately the dressing-hour came in time to prevent the final catastrophe. Mr Marsh brought Mr Kasson back with him, and we spent the evening partly in condoling with each other over fresh Northern disasters, partly in trying to cheer up Mr Kasson under these and other disappointments by another glass of Old Bourbon. Among other anecdotes illustrative of Washington in 1862 he gave us an account of a steamboat excursion got up by the Hon. Mr Conklin of New York CIty. He states that this gentleman invited him with some other persons to join him in a trip to McClellan’s head-quarters, then not far from Richmond - that on going on board he found there were several ladies in the party, a circumstance he had not anticipated, as his own wife had not been asked. Mrs Thompson, then wife, now widow of Senator Thompson of New Jersey, Mrs was the principal guest. Mrs Gen. Ricketts and some others were also there. I pass over some extraordinary details to record the most extraordinary. At the camp Mrs Gen. Ricketts found an officer, a cousin of hers, very ill, and, as she wished to take him to her house in Washington for nursing, she asked that he might be brought on board in a litter and so taken to the City. This the Hon. Mr Conklin refused to permit, though there was no person on board the boat except this small pleasure-party, and of course there was an abundance of room. The steamer, too, had been placed at Mr Conklin’s disposal as a member of the Naval Committee, and therefore his private claims to such personal control of it were not so strong as they might have been. Mrs Ricketts, finding Mr Conklin immovable, resolved herself to leave the boat and remain with the sick officer till some other means of removing him could be found. Seeing she was determined on this course, Mrs Thompson interceded with the honorable member from New York, and finally obtained permission to have the sufferer brought on to the boat. An application meanwhile was made for another officer who was severely and dangerously wounded, but had otherwise no disease. This application Mr Conklin was most resolute in rejecting, and all persuasion was unavailing. While some of the gentlemen were debating whether or not to remain on the boat, another steamer with another party of Congressmen came up, and, to their honour, took the wounded half-dying man on board with the greatest cheerfulness. I have said - to their honour, but this is one of those cases of mere common humanity in which it is a disgrace to be found wanting, but scarcely adds a laurel to him who meets them like a man.

The ogress of the Casa d’Angennes was all smiles this morning when Mr Marsh went to her to propose some modifications in the contract. She consented obligingly to all everything he asked for, and with A. and G. who remained to look over the furniture she was scarcely less gracious. Still the contracts, owing to the necessity of making copies etc. are not yet actually signed, and until this is a fait accompli we shall not feel sure of the house. I spent as much of the day as I could see use my eyes, on the manuscript. Carrie had headache and was not worth much to herself or me.

A note from Mrs Tottenham tells me this morning that she accidentally met Count Villamarina the evening before at the Browns and that he then told her had decidedly changed his mind about renting his house, and had concluded not to do so. This change it seems he felt under no obligation to communicate to us, except as it came conveniently in his way, even after he had made us a distinct proposition so tempting that we were half inclined to give up the d’Angennes negotiations at once. Nor was this offer made on his part without knowing that we were already in treaty for the Casa d’Angennes. This only shows the difference between the modes in which business is carried on in Italy and in America. We felt that we had incurred a partial obligation to the take Count V.’s house because we had been to look at it, and professed ourselves satisfied with it provided we could agree on the terms. In the meantime the Countess Ghirardi sends us word that we may have the Casa d’Angennes on the terms we offered last May, and we thought ourselves in honour bound to notify Count Villamarina at once of this circumstance. In reply he sends us a precise statement as to the inducements he can offer us to take his house and promises it on such and such conditions. Then, without waiting to know what our decision is, in fact before there was any decision, he alters his mind and doesn’t in the least feel obliged to tell us so, except as he by chance meets a mutual acquaintance. This change of mind on his part would be a decided relief to us if we were sure the Countess G. might not even yet change her mind also, and so leave us in the lurch altogether. We had a fine shower accompanied by heavy thunder this afternoon.

We worked with new life today preparing the index of authors referred to in the manuscript. At five o’clock I started up from Mr M.’s writing-table, where I had been pasting together slips alphabetically arranged, for two or three hours, exclaiming: ‘there the very last thing is done!’ - and looked to Mr Marsh for a similar expression of triumph. But on the contrary I saw only a look half disappointed, half apologetic, as he said hesitatingly “no, not quite the last; it has just occurred to me that I have left out all the authors in __ bookcase.” I was damped indeed, but it was dinner-time and there was no help for it - there must be another morning’s labour. We were soon able to laugh over our petty disappointment, but alas, not so over the long list of disasters contained in the Daily News - Pennsylvania half overrun by the rebels, and the miserable Dutchmen thinking only of their money-bags. - Washington threatened - Milroy defeated for the third time - the New Jersey governour refusing to aid Pennsylvania - Kirby Smith in possession of Milliken’s Bend - Banks badly repulsed on the 13th at Port Hudson, and seriously threatened in the rear - not a single victory except one gained by some coloured regiments - Lincoln and all his dough-faced advisors alive, and Admiral Foot dead! In the midst of this blackness of darkness there was one act stated that called out a Viva! The governour of Illinois, - the state which has already furnished 30,000 men above her quota - offers to send Governour Curtin 10,000 men to defend his capital if he wants them. God bless Illinois, and let the fire and sword of the rebels blast only the copperheads and not the patriots of Pennsylvania.

While Mr Marsh was in Turin Carrie sat by my bedside and completed the index of authors which we thought so nearly done yesterday. She worked steadily from nine till Two two, when the last pasting and clipping was finished. She then went to her room to paint, - not herself, but a part of a picture, and I was left to myself and the flies, the latter of which however Giacchino coaxed off by making my room dark with a small aperture into the boudoir. I felt better for a two hours by myself, and when Mr Marsh returned at six, had braced myself for more bad news - but the telegrams were of no particular importance, except that Hooker had resigned and Meade taken his place. Hooker, I dare say, was driven to this by the President’s interference, though it is possible there may be some other explanation. One thing is certain; our unluckiest of Presidents has a most remarkable facility of yielding at once upon the slightest remonstrance every point where he is in the right, but where he is in the wrong, which is generally the case, he is the most obstinate, bull-headed mortal in existence. One good piece of news Mr Marsh did bring - the contract for the Casa d’Angennes was signed, and he had the document in his pocket.

We were entirely alone today. I spent it in bed, Mr Marsh and Carrie wrote and read for me and for themselves, and in the evening went to pay a visit to the Baroness Gautiers. They found friends with her - among others a military gentleman whose name I forget. He told Mr Marsh that it was now settled there would be no war till Spring. The Italians were not yet ready for it, and as to the Poles they must get on as they could.

This morning the box containing the manuscript was sent down to the Messagerie, and we are both glad to feel that there can be no more last things done to it. Mr Marsh was busy nearly all day making out accounts, trying to bring up his lagging correspondence etc, though he came in to my room frequently after the Post arrived to give vent to his indignation over the stupidity of our Washington rulers. The removal of Hooker, or forced resignation, has roused Mr Marsh more than almost anything that has occurred, and if the Meade who succeeds him is the Meade we knew eighteen years ago at Washington I should be glad to hear that the Army of the Potomac had laid down its arms and gone home, or that it had risen and refused to obey the mandate from Washington. In this way some lives might be saved at least - otherwise one can look for nothing but the slaughter of the Army. Grant is said to have removed McClerland, and I should rejoice at it if I did not fear that Lincoln would restore him in the very face of his chief. As to McClerland’s military history I have nothing to say, leaving that to those who know and have followed his [illegible] career, but that he was a false man in his political life we do know from our own personal experience, and a man who is base enough to assert a deliberate falsehood on the floor of Congress in a matter when he could not be mistaken, is not a man to be trusted with the lives of his fellow men, and the life of the country. Just before dinner Mr Marsh came in and read to me a part of one of Priore Luca’s Veglie. I was glad to turn my thoughts from our own country to some more cheerful features in the prospects of this. Two or three little anecdotes struck us very pleasantly, and as this series by Prior Luca is carefully historical I have no doubt of their truth. Ricciardi (whose late acceptance of the title of count has made some stir) was formerly a very decided republican. When he was first presented to the King, Victor Emmanuel said to him: “So you are a republican! Very well, give me your hand! Help me to make a United Italy and then if she desires to become a Republic I will not stand in her way.” This is like our King and worthy of him. Another little circumstance is told of the King’s visit to Florence last April. After he had shot through what was once the Piazza del Granduca like a flash of lightning and disappeared under the gateway of the Pitti, the vast multitude that stood before the palace continued to rend the air with their calls for the King to show himself to them again upon the balcony which had been decorated in the most magnificent manner for that purpose. At last he did show himself, but not there. He threw open a plain window and stood there like a true man in the presence of the countless multitude. The effect was somewhat unexpected. Instead of renewed thunders of applause a breathless silence followed, [illegible] [illegible] - and every head was bared in an instant. “Tears flowed like rain,” says Prior Luca. “It was one of the grandest moments I have witnessed in all this grand period of Italian history.” The same Veglia contains a little anecdote of Savagniola which pleased me as eminently Italian. Some one said to the Dr. while he was Minister: “People say that you make a great many bad blunders.” “Yes I do” said the humorous and good-natured Tuscan, “but tell those people they would make a great many more if they were in my place.” There is also another anecdote of the King worth recording. After one of the great battles an officer of the Royal Staff with remonstrated with the King for having exposed himself so recklessly. The King replied : “Avete ragione. Ho fatto male. Vir altra volta - - farò peggio.” In the course of the evening Carrie was speaking of a young English girl she had met at the Tottenhams - Udea Onslow! This name struck me so oddly that I begged her to spell it for me which she did, and then told me its history. The god-father of the girl was in the habit of calling his wife you dear instead of the my dear which is so common. About the time of the birth of this girl, this gentleman lost his wife, and when invited to stand as god-father to this child by its friend, he made it a condition that the child be named Udea - a disguise for you dear, and on the tombstone for his wife the same word was engraved. Let New England eccentricity and ingenuity match that!

Mr Marsh brought from Turin American papers to the 30th. I think I have not seen him in a state of such fierce indignation since the commencement of the war. For months he has been crying out - what can they be doing in Washington that that they are making no preparation to fill up the wasting Army when they know from the lessons of the last two years that Lee will be down upon them before mid-summer. - The blow has come just as any child of common sense must have foreseen it would come - At such a crisis too Hooker is driven from his command, and a new officer put in his place. May the German proverb prove true in this case: ‘To whom God gives an office he gives wisdom.’ In the case of chief-magistrate at least it has failed.

Our chief business this week has been letter-writing which has fallen sadly behind. Carrie wrote for me some hours while Mr Marsh was occupied for himself in the same way. After a five-day confinement I was dressed about three oclock and went into the Library. There Mr Marsh read to me from Generrelli some of the facts and documents connected with the history of Pio Nono and his times from ’48 to ’50, - a story to make me blush for humanity, and most of all for popes and cardinals. When tired of Italian we turned to a review of Arrivabene’s recent book in the Deux Mondes. The account Arrivabene gives of the indignation of Cavour when he learned of the Villafranca peace and the great self-control of the King is very interesting. The reviewer says that the author’s admiration for Cavour and love for Garibaldi is most genuine. We must get the book, for now that we have time and opportunity to know thoroughly the history of Italy during the last half-century we do not mean to throw them away. - The arrest of the five brigands on board a fr French boat in the harbour of Genoa the other day, is making quite a stir. They are nearly all of them convicts escaped from Italian justice and the most monstrous crimes have been proved against them. They are, however, all furnished with passports signed by Cardinal Antonelli himself and viséd by the French minister at Rome!

This evening we had a telegram announcing a great battle near Gettysburg. The report is confused, but would lead me to think that the battle, though not very decisive, had been rather in favour of the Northern troops. The two lines from Meade speak of severe losses - many officers killed etc., but say that the enemy had not renewed the attack. President Lincoln is said to have reported great successes but we shall really know nothing about it for some days to come. I was so nervous through the whole day in anticipation of some great news this evening that I could scarcely confine my attention to Mr Marsh’s reading - much as I was interested in the subject. We went on with the review of Arrivabene, and, indeed, finished it. Whatever may be the drift of Arrivabene’s book, that of his reviewer evidently is to show that Napoleon III had no fixed policy - that his one sole aim is personal ambition, and as to the means of obtaining this end he allows himself to be guided by the passing events of the day - steering his bark only with reference to the winds and currents of the hour.

We passed our day as usual in reading, writing, drawing etc. I was disappointed not to see E. Larned at one o’clock, and to receive from him a letter instead saying that he was suffering from a boil in Milan, could not come for a day or two, and might perhaps not be able to come at all. He adds a groan, and a deep one, at the state of things at home. A letter from Mrs Valerio, nervous and semi-destraught as usual gives an anecdote from Mrs Child of poor Mrs Dwight when the body of her murdered son was brought home to her. This is the second of her boys that has fallen in this terrible war and her two remaining ones are now in the field. “Oh,” said she, “I can bear even this, I can bear everything but a compromise.” The Baroness Gautiers spent the evening with us, and as usual talked much of the American War. She understands the question, and always expresses the utmost astonishment that in civilized Europe the South can find one friend. This lady is a Piedmontese certainly but she has all the characteristics of the more southern Italians, - dark hair - dark eyes, sometimes flashing fire, sometimes soft and marvellously pathetic, with all that mobility of expression in her features which we always attribute to the children of the South. In her movements there is that inexpressible grace which I have so often marked among the Piedmontese ladies, and which may perhaps exist among other Italian women, but I am not sufficiently familiar with the higher circles of the more southern cities, to say whether it is found there or not. She told us a sad story of the poor Marquise St. Germain. Her sister is the wife of the Marquis Riscalli of Milan. Ten days ago the Marquis had an altercation with his son, in the course of which the one or the other became so much excited as to draw a revolver, and a ball passed through the body of the young man, just missing the heart. The Marchesa San Germano hurried on instantly to Milan on receiving the news. She was met by a friend at the station who begged her not to go to her sister as it would greatly alarm her about her son etc if she thought friends had been sent for to Turin, and advised her to return home at once. This the Marchesa S.G. positively refused to do, saying she would go to a hotel and her sister might be gradually prepared for her visit. Finding her immovable the friend told her that there was news of the illness of her son at St. Petersburg, and by degrees gave her to understand that a telegram had been received to say that this son was thought to be dying, and requesting the Marchese and herself to hurry to St. Petersburg as fast as possible. The poor lady rushed back to Turin without seeing her sister, and started immediately with her husband for Russia. The father gave out before the end of the journey, and the mother, invalid as she is, was obliged to go on alone. Through a kind Providence she found her son still living, and it is thought he may recover. Young Riscalli too, it is hoped, may survive. The arrest of the brigands at Genoa continues to occupy the Press and the Public. The Diritto in speaking of it took occasion to write a most severe article against the Emperor and especially against the Empress who, it asserted, spent the interval between her hours of social dissipation in praying for the Pope and the Bourbons. The edition was suppressed of course.

Mr Larned and his son came out to us at six. I was very glad to see them and especially to see the father looking better than I had expected. A few questions about the lame leg that had kept him two days from us, a few words about home-friends, and then came the all-engrossing subject - the war - And how could we talk of anything else when any hour might bring us news that according to human judgment must decide the fate of the Republic. We dined, and then waited for the evening paper in trembling. It came but brought no news. Till And bed-time we talked on, Mr Larned telling some things of his own personal knowledge which we had not already learned before, but all tending to confirm us in our judgment of the utter unfitness of the good-natured, honest, feeble, President for his place - of the faithless Seward for his - in fact of the general imbecility of the Cabinet, With with the exception of Mr Chase, who declares himself that beyond the duties of his immediate office as Secretary of the Treasury he has not the slightest influence, and that he remains there merely because he hopes to be useful to the Country in a financial way. Of McClellan he thinks precisely as we do, or rather worse. I was very glad to find that Mr Larned had had his eyes open while in Rome and Florence, that he had not been induced to believe that the Pope was a most benevolent, wise, and paternal ruler, nor that the Florentines and the Italians generally wished to break up again. He was acute enough to see through Banker Hooker, and some others who are as hostile to liberty abroad as at home. I should think from what he says that Dr Butler was just in his place at Rome. He will keep a vast number of unwary Americans out of the snare, and he will be a good counsellor to many a tempest-tost Roman. The Goulds, too, have so far kept themselves free from any blinding influences.

We began this morning where we left off last night. The interests of nations, not of individuals, must in times like these become the topics even of household conversation. It was time for Gaetano to return with the Post - one o’clock - and we were still talking of Meade and Lee and what the paper might bring. But again there was no telegram, and he was obliged to leave us at half past two to join his party in Milan. After he had gone I really felt distressed to remember how little I had been able to talk to him of home-friends, that I had not even asked after his sisters Ellen and Anna, that in fact, all of our friends had been half pushed aside by these overwhelming political events. I had a bad headache which made me fear for the effect the exciting conversation must have had upon Edwin in his weak state. Mr Marsh, too, was nervous and agitated, but perhaps we shall all feel better tomorrow for having opened the safety-valve. Even the Gazzetta tonight brought no telegram and we must now wait till tomorrow. It is dreadful to have heard from home of a great battle still unfinished and to be obliged to wait almost a week for before knowing to whose lot the victory has fallen. It turns out that the Italians have a treaty with France according to which the arrest of the five brigands the other day was illegal, and they must therefore be given up. We hope when they do this they will instantly reclaim them, not as political offenders but as thieves and murderers already convicted but escaped from justice.

We were to have set off to-day for a week’s excursion in the Vaudois vallies, but a communication from the Foreign Office made it necessary for him to go to Turin instead. At one P.M. he returned with the joyful news of the fall of Vicksburg and the defeat of Lee in Pennsylvania. We did rejoice, but in the midst of the liveliest gratitude what a pang to think of the thousands of lives these victories have cost - of the families now in anguish and desolation! I can not think so great political crime was ever before committed, as that which the authors of this rebellion have been guilty of. Alex__ who learned the good news in Turin said while waiting at dinner ‘We ought to have a festa for this telegram’ and his remark suggested to me the idea of giving the servants a treat in the evening. Accordingly I ordered eggs, cream, sugar & Old Rum to be brought to me on the terrace. As we stepped out there we were pleased to see the dear old flag flying gayily from the top of the tower - doubly pleased because it was a proof of the sympathy of our servants in our own interests, they having received no orders to raise it. While I was busy with the egg-nogg which was to make glad the hearts of the lower house, a sudden hiss followed by a whizzing sound full of 4th July memories brought me at once to my feet. I look up - a beautiful rocket was describing the most graceful of curves, then dropped a shower of red blue & white stars down on the meadow below our grounds. And a row of lamps, red blue & white formed [illegible] a shining band around the top of the old tower, producing an admirable effect. All this had been got up by the servants entirely on their own account, and to give us a pleasant surprise. Nor were the good villagers behind in testifying their sympathy. The Home Guards of Piobesi mustered out their Band which was soon installed in the garden, the little children shouting with all their might, la musica! la musica! This took Alexander even by surprise and he was not a little troubled at first for fear we might be displeased by the proportions the festa was assuming. He assured us he had not given the least hint to the band to come, and he did not know how they had learned the good news - that he would not have taken the liberty for the world etc. etc. We had made no preparations to entertain so many angels, but half a dozen bottles of wine answered to quench their thirst, and a few francs did for the rest. It was really gratifying to see the interest these poor people took in the brightening prospects of our country - a land where, they have been told, all the poor are free and happy except the black slaves, and they are to be as well off as the rest when this dreadful war is over. The music was really very respectable, and the rockets blazed at intervals till ten o’clock. The whole effect was very pretty - the band formed a most picturesque group in the garden, all the more striking because there was no moon and no lights about the garden except those which shone from the tower and those used by the musicians themselves. In fact I doubt whether we could have got up anything prettier if we had had a week to prepare it. We were so sorry that home-friends could not see it, and particularly that Mr Larned and Walter could not have stayed one night longer. We dismissed the Band at half past ten, and hurried to bed knowing that I we must rise at four for our Pignerol excursion.

Our three gigs arrived at Candiolo soon after six in ample time for the first Pinerolo train, and we reached this town without any remarkable adventure a little after seven. At eight we were on our way toward La Tour in a small but tolerably comfortable carriage, and a Jehn who brought us up in an hour and a half. The country is very pretty, as we knew beforehand, but nearly half the Indian corn and the vines between Pignerol and La Tour has been destroyed this year by hail. ’Twas a mournful sight to see nothing but the stalks and half-grown ears of Indian corn left - on the vines neither leaf nor fruit, and the mulberry-trees were almost as bare. But the oaks, the walnuts and the forest trees generally have scarcely suffered at all. We were disappointed somewhat at the aspect of things at the principal hotel at La Tour, L’Orsa, and Alex__ intimated as much to our hostess. “Ah, Monsieur, il ne faut pas attender grande chose dans notre petitie maison, mais tout est bien propre - il n’y a pas de bêtes.” This was consoling. Every thing did look very neat, and I felt in good spirits. An hour’s experience however has taught me that a certain very teasing tormenting little creature does not come under the classification of bête in the natural History of La Tour. On making inquiries we found the chief guide was absent on an excursion with some travellers - Guide No 2 was also not to be found, and we shall have to sit down as Sotire used to say, for the rest of the day. We have examined the royal family tree, the portraits of Marie Pie and her royal husband, a full length lithograph of Gen. Beckwith, and a sketch of the Vaudois history, all of which are in our sitting-room - then we betook ourselves to the bedroom where are four old coloured lithographs of poor Marie Stuart in the closing scenes of her life. This finishes the ressources of the house - we must now go to our own carpet-bags - After dinner and tea the guide made his appearance, does not think well of the weather and recommends that our first excursion be up the Valley d’Angrogna as far as Prè du Tour. This he says can as well be seen when there is some fog as at any other time, but for the Col de Traversette t or any other high mountain view, it would be time and money thrown away to attempt it while such masses of vapour are hanging over and enveloping every peak. This is certainly disinterested advice on his part and we shall take it.

This morning we were astir betimes, took a cup of tea at half past six, but did not get off till half past seven, the chaise–à-porteurs being a novelty in the region, and a necessity to me today from the fact that my saddle à dossier was left behind. Alex and Giacchino stayed at La Tour to make arrangements to send for the saddle. The day was a fine one for such an excursion, though all the higher mountain peaks were generally concealed by the mist we still had a charming view of everything that was near us, and the absence of sun-shine was a great comfort especially to the walkers. Mr Marsh set out on a donkey but as usual soon complained that the stirrup and made him remember very painfully an old sprain. He left his monture before reaching Angrogna, and did not [illegible] ride again - not even returning. At Angrogna we noticed the pastor’s house, now undergoing thorough repairs and in a very charming position. We were detained here a little from the necessity of making a change in the poles of the chair, and the kind pastoress came out to see if she could do anything for us. She spoke English very well but was evidently either a Suissesse or a Vaudoise. The general aspect of the valley was much as we expected, very lovely, sometimes even very wild, but we have seen many far more striking. Both our guides and the people of the valley we met seem very quiet and gentle, and somehow or other reminded me very much of our Quakers. Most of them speak French very well but they evidently prefer their own patois which from the little I have heard of it I should judge to be less disagreeable and more intelligible than the Piedmontese of Turin and it neighborhood. Only two persons asked alms, both very old women. One of them whose little cottage is at the Prè close to the trees under which we took our lunch, has a pretty little grand child whose mother died lately. The poor old woman had a broken leg and complained that it was bien triste d’être si pauvre. Her dialect however was the worst we heard in the valley and I found it difficult to talk with her. I made out this much - that a ‘brave dame anglaise had just sent the little orphan a new Testament which must at least have cost three francs’. The child brought us some water in a bright copper pail for our lunch and was soon joined by a lively little boy of about her own age who told us of his school his Church &c. There is a C. Church dedicated to the Virgin Mary at this very spot which has been the scene of so many terrible persecutions of the Vaudois, and it may be just where the old college of the Barbes stood. But the people of the Valley told us that no one went there to the service, and even the poor family I have just mentioned went down the valley miles to worship in a far inferior chapel of their own. At Angrogna we went into the pastor’s house according to a semi-promise made as we went up, and good Madame Cantone refreshed us with eau-sucrée and cherry water. This seems to me almost the prettiest point in the whole valley. It is not too high for the magnificent chestnuts and walnuts that make the lower Alpine valleys so beautiful, and yet it is high enough to command a fine view of the plain at the mouth of the valley, to overlook the Pellise which runs far [illegible] below it, and the doubling, curving waving outline of the hills on both sides is really enchanting - An hour more brought us back to La Torre whither Mr Marsh had preceeded us long enough to have taken his bath and to be ready to receive us looking quite fresh in his dry clothes. Dinner was soon ready, and was soon followed by a cup of tea and I must confess to going to bed without a candle.

The weather this morning being still very misty and Mr Marsh being very tired we concluded to do nothing more than to drive down to Luserna, and to wait for the arrival of the saddle if not for better weather before setting off for Crissòlo and the Traversette. The expedition to Luserna did not prove a brilliant success. The carriage was wretchedly uncomfortable, the road almost intolerable The latter is new, and composed of large pebbles with a sparing mixture of earth. The little village of Luserna stands on a hill which commands a very lovely view of the ridges opposite and the valley below. The road that leads to it branches off from the highway between Pinerolo & La Torre, and consists of a viaduct and a brig bridge of very expensive construction. The villa of the Della Roccas was shown us - new but of modest dimensions, and with little to admire about it except its fine position. We were glad to get back to our hotel without shipwreck and with our curiosity fully satisfied as to what was meant by a scorratta, we having been puzzled by a sign opposite our windows - ’Qui si affittano cavalli e scorratte.

Gaetano brought up the saddle last night, and this morning the guide came soon after 4 four to settle how and where we would go. Our object was to get to Crissòlo, and Murray recommends the pass of the Sea Bianca to such travellers as do not choose to go around through Barge and Paesana. Our guide however, who had told us the day before that one could go over the mountain to Crissolo in six hours, argued stoutly in favour of the pass of the Gianna which he said would take longer and admitted that it would be difficult to ride all the way. Mr Marsh told him we could not go anywhere where I should be obliged to dismount as I could only walk a very few rods, and therefore declined to go by the Gianna. There was a great deal of delay in getting our beasts in order, and the more we talked with the guide the more we were satisfied that he knew very little about the passes from the valley to the Pellise to the Pò. At last he brought a man whom he said knew the way as he knew his own fingers, and proposed that he should be one of our attendants. At twenty minutes before six we were on our way for the Sea Bianca as we supposed. Our route took us first in the direction of Bobbio, but a little this side of the town we struck off to the left and began to ascend rapidly. Mr Marsh rode for about an hour and then walked, or rather climbed steadily for several more. A peasant we met asked our guide where he was going -“over the Gianna” was the answer. I communicated this to my husband as soon as I had an opportunity to speak to him. He was surprised but said that was probably a general name for the ridge, as he could hardly believe the guide would venture to take him where he had said positively he would not go. On the next green Alp alp we stopped at a little châlet to feed the donkeys and rest ourselves. We sat down under the shade of a stone wall on our piles of shawls with five monster pigs just before us which we could not drive away even by pelting them with stones. The old gran’ther of the châlet came out to offer us its hospitality, and we enquired of him about the Sea Bianca the Gianna &c. He told us the former, which was the more direct route to Crissolo, was now utterly impassable, partly from disuse, partly from the snow and ice with which it was still encumbered. The Gianna he thought we might pass but said it was three hours more to the top. Three hours more, and we were already very tired, having been climbing for nearly five. We then asked him how long it would take us to go down to Crissolo from the summit. An hour and a half or two hours, was the answer. We were in for it and there was nothing left but to go on. I was extremely uneasy about Mr Marsh as he seemed very tired, and I knew that while it was impossible for him to ride a little donkey up the steep paths we were climbing it would be no less impossible to ride down on the other side. The man who knew the way as well as his own fingers was evidently little better informed than our first guide, and they were frequently at a loss where to go. At four o’clock the one who was scrambling up foremost cried out: Voilà le coquin! A moment more and we all stood by his side with Monte Viso before us scarce three miles off and almost entirely unobstructed from base to summit. It was a most magnificent sight, and tired as we were, and anxious and vexed, we forgot everything in that glorious view. Of course Monte Viso was the centre of attraction, but the Visottolo on th its right and another grand peak on the left, the name of which I forget, each supported by other and scarce less lofty crests, rising like a wall as far as we could see made up a picture in some respects not inferior to the finest we have ever seen in the Alps; but a very violent and cutting wind together with the lateness of the hour forced us to hurry on. Again we asked how long before we should reach Crissolo. “We can go down in about four hours” was the startling reply. “Four hours! Why it it half past four now, and you told us it would be only six hours to make the whole pass after we struck off from Bobbio!” The guide looked confused, said he did not think it would take so long, &c. &c. Mr Marsh then asked him if we should not reach some châlets before coming to Crissolo where we could pass the night. “Oh yes, we shall find châlets, but -” There was a pause here which was as much as to say [illegible] whether you can spend the night in them or not is another thing. There was no time to be lost in discussion or scolding, and we began a downward movement as rapidly as possible. I kept on my beast for some time though the poor creature had the utmost difficulty in keeping his legs even with the help of one guide at his tail and another at his head. An old shephard shepherd now joined us, inquired if we had made buon viaggio and then told us that a little further on the path was all washed away and it would be impossible to ride. In the meantime our guides had given abundant evidence that they did not in the least know how to find their way down, and after a moments talk with them the kind old shepherd volunteered to show the track. We were standing on a crest so steep that it seemed impossible to descend it without the help of wings. I was lifted from my saddle, and just then saw Carrie, who had sprung off and taken her donkey by the bridle, sliding down together with the poor beast, whose four feet were sprawled out with desperate determination, but they neither she nor her donkey [illegible] seemed to have the slightest control over their own direction, but were entirely at the mercy of mere gravitation. Mr Marsh had braced himself against his Alpenstock and stretched out his hand to me, but my knees were so stiffened by the nine hours I had been in the saddle that I found it impossible to stand. How I got to the bottom of this really frightful declivity I dont know, but it was somehow or other on my hands and knees. I was so anxious for fear of some accident to Mr Marsh or Carrie that I really could not think of anything else and the men had as much as they could do to keep the poor animals from slipping off and being dashed to pieces. This was the worst part of the descent. The rest though steep and rough could scarcely be called dangerous, and our spirits were in a measure kept up by the majestic scenery that surrounded us. After about two hours and a half we came to a little châlet. I was fearfully tired and I dare say Carrie was so too though she made no complaint, and Mr Marsh declared he could go no farther. We had now been twelve hours and a half on the road with nothing but a bit of bread and cheese and small ones at that. We asked if they could give us a place to sleep and some polenta and eggs to eat. This request caused a commotion in the little hamlet. There was no small hurrying to and fro, and a great amount of earnest consultation. At last we were led to a place declared to be the cleanest in the village, if village it could be called. Mr Marsh and Carrie went in to see what the prospect was. A large, low, black room, without window or chimney, but with a great fire at one end, the smoke of which passed partly through the tiles, the rest remaining in the room. They came out declaring it would be impossible to stay there on account of the smoke. I suggested that the fire might be put put out - but then how could we get our polenta or our boiled eggs? Was there no other place to sleep? &c &c. In the meantime husband had recovered his breath a little, and this circumstance added to the dismal prospect here, and the flattering assurance that Crissolo was only an hour off, induced us to try and push on. Oh, how long was that hour! Mr Marsh was so thoroughly foot-sore and out of breath that I really feared he would be obliged to give up entirely, but he did not dare to attempt riding on a donkey down such rapid descents, and there was nothing left but to use his own strength as far as it would carry him. We did reach Crissolo between eight and nine - weary, wo-begone mortals that we were. Carrie was already at the door of the Albergo del Gallo when we came up. What an Albergo! One small room and a kitchen was all we could see. We threw ourselves into some wooden chairs that stood in the room that was not the kitchen and put our handkerchiefs to our faces for respirators to strain off [illegible] the odour of garlic. The mistress came, promised us beds and a supper, and I begged her to show us our chambers as soon as they were ready. A boy of fourteen soon made his appearance with a light and proposed to take us to them. Stipulating with the Mamma that there should be neither garlic nor onions in her cookery, we left her to prepare the polenta and the polastri after her own fashion and followed the boy. He took us across the road to what seemed to be a kind of hay-loft, but in the it were two rooms intended for christians, not cattle. Into one of these we were introduced, and found three not uncomfortable-looking beds, very clean and the air of the room was fresh and pure. We then asked for the other room but our boy declared that the other room was occupied by a gentleman, that we were only three and here were three beds - and besides this was all they could do for us. This last was a settler and we decided at once to take the three beds and be thankful. It was a long time to supper, but it came at last and was not bad. The room had been aired, the smell of garlic had disappeared and was replaced by the fragrance of tea from our smoking etna. One thing however was quickly settled. We were all too tired to think of the Traversette tomorrow. Mr Marsh paid our guides and dismissed them finding he could get others here. There being no ladies’ saddles however the La Torreau left us his on condition that we take it back to him on our return.

At half past nine this morning we sat down to our modest but not unpalatable breakfast in the dining room of the Gallo. While waiting for it we had amused ourselves not a little with the image of a cock that graced the sign over the door. The tail-feathers especially were in the most flagrant style of the art of sign painting, and must have been drawn from the artist’s ideal of a phenix, or of some other impossible bird. It was really very funny, Having disposed of our trout and potatoes we requested our boy, who proved to be truly a great boy in the western sense, to have our room put in order at once that we might stretch our bruised limbs at full length again as soon as possible. Mr Marsh was asleep in five minutes after he had thrown himself upon his bed. Carrie pillowed herself up and took the Vita di Pio Nono for amusement, but I disposed myself to follow my good husband’s example. A low whispering and buzzing of voices at one of the windows startled me from my incipient nap and I called out “Chi è là?” in a tone which Mr Marsh characterized as a yell, Carrie rushed to the window, and found some children on a ladder which they had raised to the window and on the top rounds of which they were standing to enjoy the sight of the wonderful strangers. They fled hastily at her approach and were rebuked by the old folks below who took away the ladder and sent the children home. We had no other disturbance except from the noise of persons pitching hay into the loft over our heads. Trout and potatoes again made us a good dinner which was helped by some very respectable soup. This hot dish our boy was surprised to find we wished to eat first, it being the Piedmontese fashion among all classes to take it in the middle of the dinner. The next thing was to settle with the guide for tomorrow. His account of the Col de la Traversette made it look rather formidable, but we made up our minds to go as far as we could reasonably and then give up reaching the gallery if necessary, and on this conclusion went to bed.

We were off this morning soon after five Mr Marsh and Carrie each having a mule and I being furnished with a donkey. Mr Marsh soon found that riding on the sort of pack-saddle provided for him and which was all the place afforded, was quite out of the question, partly from its enormous width, partly from the difficulty of keeping his seat when the animal stumbled or made an irregular step, so after an hour or a little more he took to his feet for the rest of the day. Carrie walked for two hours and then mounted her mule. Everything went on very well and we reached the Piano del Re in less than three hours from Crissolo. Here a spring gushes through the hills from a lake above, and is known as the sorgente del Pò, although there are fifty other sources higher up and far more deserving the name. It is a charming spot however, the verdure lovely, and the water deliciously cold and refreshing. Here the guides showed us where the King and the Princes had rested, the rocks on which they ate their polenta, &c &c. The King, they said, had not been higher than the lakes, but the Princes came over the Gianna. According to Carrie’s guide however the Royal Party went up to the Traversette. This sorgente del Pò is the extreme limit of Italian adventure in these parts. Many m Milanese families they told us came so far, but none but English or the people of the valley ever crossed the Traversette or the Gianna. All our attendants were greatly astonished at Carrie’s prowess. “Una damigella, e cosi giovinetta, avere tanto coraggio! - - Scometto non aurà più di quindice anni, e parla la nostra lingua assai meglio di noi poveracci!” Mr Marsh climbed with more ease than he had done on Friday and we reached the delicious spring a few hundred feet below the Buca without any extraordinary fatigue. I was more surprised at what I had done myself than at the endurance of the others, for I had felt so ill during the night before that I had scarcely slept at all, and nothing but the immense gratification Mr Marsh finds in these expeditions (which he will not make without me) would have induced me to venture on such an undertaking. But we made some tea at the spring, eat our bread and cheese, and were ready to set out again with new courage, of which we had good need before we reached the top. As it was impossible for me to ride further the men took off my saddle, fastened it firmly to two poles, & on this they were to carry me if possible up to the gallery. For the first few feet it went very well, but then the snow (for we had been in the snow more or less for the last hour) lay so steep that it was impossible for the men who held the poles to keep anything like a sure foothold. One would slip and nearly through [throw] me backwards, another and I was actually thrown out forwards. When I was reseated all four slipped together, and we lost as much ground as we had gained in a quarter of an hour previous. In the meantime my posture was almost intolerable, and finally I was obliged to admit that I could go no further in that way. In fact the men were utterly unable to get up themselves and carry a burthen besides. I sat down on a rock, looked at the opening of the gallery some three hundred feet above me, and felt for the first time on any of these excursions, that I had undertaken what I could not accomplish. One of the men then offered to take me on his shoulders. I remembered my successful experiment in this way on making the last part of the ascent of Horeb, but when I looked at the slender Piedmontese before me and recalled to mind the stalwart Arab who carried me on that occasion I thought it would be more than the poor man could possibly do. There was only one way left. A man took me by the arm on each side of me, and going a little before me nearly pulled me up without much exertion of my own; and at last we stood before the mouth of the gallery. So unprepared was I for such an experience as this that I was provided with only thin summer boots - a poor protection against [illegible] knee deep snow. After a moment’s rest Carrie disappeared in the midnight of the gallery. One or two of our guides went with her, but it was so long before any of them returned that Mr Marsh and I became a little anxious. At last we heard their clear shouts and supposed they were safe in France, which was the fact. Leaving C. the men returned and I prepared to follow her with them, but I had formed no idea of the difficulties of the way. We began to ascend an inclined plane of ice which rose till our heads touched the roof of the arch, then the ice and snow became very unequal and we kept our footing with the greatest difficulty. We had not a ray of light and the warnings of the guides a dritta! a dritta! a sinistra! capo basso, capo basso! were quite enough to make us feel a little nervous. Murray gives the length of this gallery at 250 or 300 feet, but I think he must have passed it when it was free from snow and ice. To me it seemed a quarter of a mile. Daylight appeared at last, and a Viva la Francia! greeted the scene below us, which however by no means compares in beauty with the view from the Italian side. Nor could we stay long to enjoy even what there was to be enjoyed. The wind was piercingly cold and blowing violently from that side, and through the gallery though on the Italian side we had left a pleasant summer temperature. The return proved even more difficult than the first passage. My guides both slipped - one sliding off to a considerable distance, while the other was, I flatter myself, saved from a fall by the sharp wooden heels on my fancy boots. Poor Carrie supposing that it was I who had slid off came rushing after me with a momentum far greater than she intended, but I am fortunately so firmly fixed by my heels in the softening ice that the collision did not upset me, and she did not actually fall. After sundry more knocks against the projecting stones of the roof we came out safe on the southern side, and were glad enough to get back to Italy and warm weather. Here we spent a half hour in delightful enjoyment of the view before us. The mists had been playing strange antics all day - sometimes disappearing altogether - then capping the mountain-peaks, or rolling up the valley, or half hiding the plain. Now they were more beautiful than ever. Monte Viso, sometimes or rather that part of the chain visible from this point, was sometimes almost entirely covered, then again perfectly clear, but almost before we had time to exclaim “how distinct it is now!” the boiling, curling vapours would shoot up in the most fantastic forms from below, and with the swiftness of steam from a steampipe, and in a minute all was covered again. Sometimes we could see the plain quite well but generally it was somewhat obscured, I am by no means sure that such mists as these today are on the whole an injury to mountain views. While we were coming up and Monte Viso was standing before us in such majesty it was wonderful to see how he seemed to wrap the vapoury mantle about him, throwing it now over this shoulder, now over that, now winding it about his head like a lordly turban, now casting it all off in haughty scorn. And then the apparent height of the mountains is always greater when these flying mists are playing about them. We could not stay as long as we wished as the descent was likely to prove a long and troublesome affair. Various plans were proposed to get me safely down over the snow, but at last it was settled that I should once more try the saddle, two ends of the poles were to rest on the snow, the other two raised by the guides who were to go before, a cord was fastened to the whole apparatus, and a bright little fellow who came through the Traversette from the French side while we were there, was to hold the cord behind, and in this way act as a break. The plan looked specious - I took my seat and was soon sliding down the steep slope with something very like railroad speed. The two men who held the poles were sliding, the two men at my side were sliding, so was the youngster who held the cord. “Il vapore, il vapore”! shouted the guides in great glee, and a more exciting sleigh-ride I never had. But it was a very short one. Five minutes, or rather much less, was sufficient to pass over the ground which it had taken us an hour to ascend. Carrie and Mr Marsh made a somewhat similar voyage but entirely on their own responsibility, I having nearly all the men with me. “Ecco madamigella! che va sunza il babbo!” exclaimed one of them as he saw C. sailing away alone down the glittering slope. As soon as we came to a point where it was possible to ride I relieved the guides of their burthen and got upon my donkey. The rest continued to walk. The descent was rather steep most of the way, but we met with no accident and arrived safely at the Gallo in Crissolo not far from six. Both Mr Marsh and Carrie had walked nearly the whole of the day, and the former when dinner was over and he had thrown himself on his bed, exclaimed with most amusing naïvety: “I wish somebody would tell me candidly whether I am really an old fool or not to tire myself in this way.”

This morning while Carrie and I were dressing and packing up our sieben Sachen for a progress through Paesana and Barge to La Torre, Mr Marsh had a talk with an Italian who occupied the only other room of our hotel. This gentleman had already informed us that he had been sent here for a sangiamento d’aria, but that he found his stay noiosissimo. It was not hard to believe this, as he was neither angler nor hunter, and had no taste for the wild scenery within his reach. He had however been up to the lake, a feat upon which he prided himself not a little. This lake which is scarcely larger than one’s dining-table and from the configuration of the surface about it cannot possibly be more than a couple of hundred feet deep, he declared to be unfathomable, and said that people came from all parts of Italy to see it. Mr Marsh now told him that we had gone far far above the lake where we had an entirely unobstructed view of Monte Viso from summit to base, where the Visotolo was so near that it seemed as if we could touch it, then described to him the grand and awful precepices on our right hand as we went up, the almost boundless view of the plain below &c. When he had finished his auditor said very quietly: “Senza dubbio la cosa la più ‘soddisfacente che avranno veduta sarà il bel lago.” This of course was beyond answer. In the meantime another Italian gentleman with his little daughter were setting out for that same famous lago. We pitied the poor child, as there was no saddle for her except the sort of pack-saddle which Mr Marsh had been obliged to use the day before, and it really seemed to us no longer a wonder that the ladies who came here never went further than the lake. The little girl had to sit astride, and had nothing to help her keep her seat. We advised our guide to get English ladies’ saddles, and assured him that travellers would be more likely to come here and to make the excursion to Monte Viso, but he said that Italian ladies could not ride on English saddles, and that English ladies almost never came here, or, if they did, came with their own. Where this Milanese gentleman and his daughter slept last night we do not know, but we saw them led of [off] somewhere into the village with rather disconsolate faces. It was about eight when we turned our mules towards Paesana. Mr Marsh had made up his mind to walk for the five hours between Crissolo and Barge and had the courage to carry out his resolution. The day was extremely fine, the valley sometimes very wild, rocky and bare - they showed us an immense mass of rock, six or eight miles below Crissolo, that fell last year, killing two persons, with a noise that was heard at that village, and a cloud of dust visible as far - and sometimes it was most luxuriantly green and beautiful. I cannot imagine anything more striking to persons to whom such a scene is new than one of these Alpine vallée. One moment the traveller stands in the midst of the most savage desolation, bare blasted peaks above him which have hurled and are still hurling immense blocks of stone down over the little shelf on which he stands into the roaring, foaming flood hundreds of feet below him. He passes on, turns round a jutting spur of the mountain, and finds himself under the shadow of the most beautiful chestnuts with green pastures and waving wheat fields all about him. Then another turn and he is again in the wilderness, and so on hour after hour till he gets quite down almost to the mouth of the valley. It was fair-day at Paesana Barge and we met multitudes of the simple people on their way back. Many of them saluted us with the:”Ha fatto buon viaggio? Ah, mi fa tanto piacere!” so well nigh universal in the higher portion of the valley. But the younger ones, who seem to be learning city-manners were generally silent, leaving the politeness to be done by their old school progenitors. We rested a short half-hour at Paesana, then proceeded to Barge. For much of the distance we had a most picturesque view of the plain below, especially of the town of Cavour with the wonderful hill rising abruptly out of the plain to the height of five hundred feet. We were so much struck by this object that we vowed a pilgrimage to it some day. At Barge, a most prettily situated town, we dined and got carriages to take us to La Torre where we arrived soon after five heartily welcomed by our servants and our hostess. We found a half mad English woman in our drawing room, who, without looking up, said as we entered: “I’m going at once, I’m going at once!” Giacchino explained to me who she was, but added: “These people here don’t know that she is mad, they think it is simply English oddity.” And on this she told me a conversation between some Italian officers in the dining room the day before. “These English,” said one of them “are certainly the most extraordinary people I ever heard off! The most original! Only think, the other day a party of them came up to Pinerolo, and there took an omnibus to come up the valley. It was raining. What do you think they did! Put all their baggage inside the omnibus, and got on the outside, ladies and all!” It never occurred to this innocent militaire that these “amiable islanders” might possibly have a little curiosity to see the country they had come so far to visit.

We should have slept soundly from fatigue last night but from the most untractable of straw beds, made in the form of a house-roof and put under a thin [illegible] mattress. Mr Marsh said he was more tired when he rose than when he went to bed. We took carriages direct for Piobesi, and reached the Castello about two without misadventure, and having as fine a day as is possible to imagine. The most striking object we saw on our way this morning was a church-tower at Bricherasio. I could not have been made to believe short of the evidence of my own eyes that such a monstrous thing was to be found in all Italy. It would be idle to attempt to describe it, but if drawing or a photograph of it can be found I am determined to possess myself of it. We were rather surprised to find that all these provincial roads were wet every day at this season in order to keep down the dust. A stream used for irrigation is turned of temporarily into a small channel by the roadside, and then men standing by this current with an implement half shovel half pail, they throw the water entirely across the road. This is certainly a great comfort to travellers. An odd conceit too in the way of beds attracted my notice on this journey. In houses of any pretention a spread is laid over the mattress, and in the top of this spread a bolster is basted in, in such a way that without anything else the bed has the air of being neatly dressed for an occupant. When the bed is actually to be used the sheets, pillows and other covering are laid over this first counterpane which serves the double purpose of protecting the mattress, and giving the bed a neat appearance when the sheets are removed. Carlo and Susanne were all right and glad to see us and it was a real joy to get back to home and a bath.

Mr Marsh went to Turin early this morning and brought American news to the eighteenth - everything most satisfactory except the New York riots, and even out of these I hope much good may come, especially a determination on the part of our better citizens that Fernando Wood and his Irish gang shall be put down cost what it may. I looked over papers, and we talked and rejoiced over the good news till my head was really giddy, and I was glad when night came with its calm and rest.

It was pleasant to resume our habitual occupations once more, but it is not easy to take up everything just where one left off and with the same interest as before even after only eight days of interruption. We were all a little heavy and a little lazy, but perhaps accomplished so much as to get ourselves fairly into the old track.

Carrie went to Turin this morning with Giacchino to engage the eldest Miss Tottenham to come and spend next week with us. She found the whole family occupied with a very different engagement which the young lady has just made, and which seems to give satisfaction to all parties. I am very glad for many reasons, as Miss Tottenham evidently possesses none of those qualities of independence and none of powers of initiative effort that would make her useful and happy were she to live and an unmarried life. It must be a great gratification to her parents that she marries an Englishman and is to go “home”. Mr Marsh and I spent a large part of the day in reading together, dividing the time between Buckle’s History of Civilization and Bonnemere’s Histoire du Paysan. As to the first book, it is not fair to form a judgment after reading only a hundred pages, and I have no doubt we shall find much in the book to admire, but as I was struck in the first few pages by the great mistakes made in his statements with regard to religious dogmas and doctrines, so today was I even more struck by the historical distortions by which he endeavors to sustain a preconceived theory. Perhaps distortions is not the word I should have used, because I do not see any evidence that the author wishes to be otherwise than candid, but he has adopted a theory and then looked about for facts to sustain it, found here and there something that seemed favourable, and utterly overlooked a far larger amount of testimony that would go entirely against him. On the whole, if I were forced to judge the man after this little acquaintance with him, I should say that he was destitute of imagination and not particularly strong in his logic, that he was learned, without being in the least wise, that is, without having assimilated his knowledge, that his sense of right and justice was acute, that his instincts in short were far nobler than his cold and slavish creed. Bonnemere’s book delights me beyond measure, and I wish I could see it in English. I cannot help thinking it would do good. I went to bed and to sleep under the soothing influence of a hand-organ which was playing under my balcony where some-half dozen couples of little folks were merrily dancing in anticipation of the festa tomorrow and Sunday - the grand festa in honour of the patroness Santa Anna.

Before I was dressed this morning the widowed mother of the nine children sent me in some bunches of very nice-looking grapes. Of course I understood this, and was glad to have an opportunity to furnish her and her family with a good meat-dinner in exchange for her gift, and this cleared up a difficulty under which we had been labouring as to what we could best do for these poor villagers on this occasion. We did not wish to give money to adorn their saint, nor to make her procession splendid, and mere fireworks and illuminations seem too much like money thrown away when they had so many needs. So we settled to order the butcher to furnish meat today to such poor families in the village as could not afford to buy it. The butcher being syndic and apparently an honest man I think we can trust him. At any rate if he cheats us one half the poor will get something and of course we cannot know how to distribute these charities ourselves. As to beggary I have never seen less in my life than here in Piòbesi. Mr Stillman came out by the noon-day train. We were very glad to see him and to have an opportunity of talking over American interests at Rome. His indignation against banker Hooker would be almost amusing if it were not so well grounded. The open advocacy of the cause of the secessionists by this man became too notorious even for Mr Blatchford who himself was able to swallow the camel to the extent of inviting to his house the noisiest defenders of the rebellion. He told Mr Hooker finally that he must be more prudent or he should be obliged to dissolve his connection with the Legation. This remonstrance made him more careful in Mr Blatchford’s presence but the recent national victories alone really induced him to be less a rebel. The vexations Mr Stillman has endured from the unwillingness of American travellers to pay the three dollars exacted by our government for a new passport and intended to force such American citizens as were abroad to contribute in a small way to the expenses of the war are something really humiliating to listen to. Even Miss Charlotte Cushman with all her great wealth flies into a passion on being told the new regulation, and when at last obliged to accede to it she refuses absolutely to get a separate passport for her friend Miss Stevvins and manages to have her leave Rome without one by the help of the police. And Miss Charlotte Cushman is the mistress of more than three hundred thousand dollars! Of the Americans at Rome generally, with the exception of Dr Butler and a few others, Mr Stillman says that the only signs of interest that even Northerners have shown in this terrible struggle has been in the rates of exchange. According to these they made themselves merry, gave charade-parties, &c. or they kept quiet and spent little, but never did he hear a word of sympathy for those who were suffering at home, of anxiety as to the result from any other than a mere personal point of view, or any plan of doing something themselves to help the great cause. Mr Stillman feels intensely and much allowance must be made for his artist temperament, but I can readily believe there is much truth in what he says, and if he were in New York or Boston among the rich I fancy he would find the Americans in Rome were not so unlike the majority of wealthy Americans in their own country. But it is pleasanter to look at those who do than at those who do not, and when we think of the hands that are busy, and the hearts and the purses that are open in this hour of fearful need, we have some reason to be proud of human nature. As to Mr Blatchford his previous political history and his entire ignorance of European politics together with the influences under which he came, are elements sufficient to enable one who is no prophet to foresee exactly what he would do and be, and so he has done, and such he is. Mrs Blatchford is discreet, has fully preserved her patriotism, and her love of human liberty, but she must have been more than woman not to be more or less influenced by the intrigues of able and designing persons around her, and by the propriety of abstaining from setting herself in any way in opposition to her husband. [Illegible] We were a good deal interested in Mr Stillman’s account of Ruskin with whom he passed, three years ago, a whole summer in Switzerland. He speaks of him as a most singular aggregate of contradictions - generous to the extreme but unsympathizing, impulsive in his attachments and yet incapable of any strength in them, likely to denounce his best friend from the merest whim from the slightest offense given his most fastidious taste, loving nature and yet unable to see her at all as she is, loving art yet judging of it by the most accidental caprice, without power of executing anything himself yet possessing the most perfect confidence in his ability to direct others, now strong in his religious faith, now carrying his doubts to the extremest atheism, a sincere lover of truth and yet so mentally constituted as to be almost incapable of recognizing it. The differences of opinion between Mr Stillman and Mr Ruskin on the American question has led to an entire interruption of their correspondence for the last six months. Mr Clay and Mr Artoni came out to dine with us and in the evening we drank a glass of egg-nogg together by way of mutual rejoicing over the better prospects at home.

The villagers were all dancing merrily at quite an early hour this morning. Mr Clay went out and gave the children a ride on the whirligig to their great delight, and through the whole day we had the music in their ears and could see the dancing under the trees whenever we chose. This last was rather monotonous and it was surprising how they could find any pleasure in it themselves for so many hours, it being kept up till nearly eleven in the evening. Mr Stillman as well as the other gentlemen stayed through the day which passed very pleasantly. An anecdote of Gibson told by Stillman diverted us not a little. The sculptor was one day talking in a circle of friends in that semi-lecturing tone so common among artists, and among other things said: “That the ancient Greek sculptors did paint their statues is illegible now settled past dispute.” “I dispute it,” said an English doctor whose name I forget. “they never painted their statues”. “Do you mean to say” said the indignant artist, turning a fierce glance on the Dr, “do you mean to say that the Greek sculptors did not paint their statues?” “I mean to say exactly that”, responded the Dr quietly, “they employed somebody to do it who had an eye for colour.” Was this merely a hard hit at Gibson or had the Dr the anecdote told by Pliny of Praxitiles in his mind? Stillman speaks with some praise of Boyers, with much of Story, but the adjectives he bestows upon Mosier are anything but complimentary. I did not know enough of Stillman’s history to be aware of the part he had taken with Kossuth in Hungary, of his adventure to recover the crown jewels etc. but I have seen and learned enough of him now to be afraid that he will get his head broken before he gets back to Europe in case there should be another mob outbreak. Among little items of home intelligence which he gave us was a most melancholy history of Miss Fanny McGregor. After the gentlemen left us the Baroness came in to give us a petit bonsoir and to say she was going to the mountains.

The villagers kept up their festa all day today with undeminished energy. We all began to feel a little nervous from the music, each piece of which had been repeated ad nauseam. The avvocato Molino came this evening to pay his respects. He is a learned man, has a library of his own consisting of some eight thousand volumes, and though priggish in his manners is not unfamiliar with the customs of society. Unluckily he talks with the energy and speed of a locomotive under full head, and as he pronounces French after the manner of the Piedmontese it is not easy to follow him. Fortunately it is never necessary to answer him, so that no awkwardness grows out of his unintelligibility. We get a new scrap of home news almost every day now either by telegram or through our own papers. These last take up an immense deal of time now that we are free from the manuscript and have the leisure to spare for them. Indeed letter-writing uses up nearly all the rest and I find I am scarcely able to do more in some directions than I was before.

Every Post brings fresh good news from America so far as Federal victories are concerned, but today our feelings of joy in the brightening prospects of our country were painfully damped by a sad heartbroken letter from Mr Powers announcing the death of his daughter Florence, a girl of seventeen, and regarded by all who know the family as the real genius among his children. Florence was not beautiful, and has for years fr been suffering from a rhumatic affection which frequently attacked the heart, but she was lovely in her character, and every touch of her pencil was inspiration. This will be a terrible blow to Mr and Mrs Powers, as well as a great grief to the brothers and sisters.

Writing letters, reading German fairy tales with Carrie, and a stupid part of one of Maurice Sand’s stories, Callirhoé, took up the morning till Post time. Gaetano brought nothing but the Daily News, the American portion of which we soon devoured, after which Mr Marsh read Buckle to me till dinner-time. We see no reason to change our opinion of the book as we proceed. It is astonishing that he does not see that the New Testament furnishes a simple key to unlock all the mysteries of human history, at least all such as he can ever hope to explain by his own method. Nor is the conclusion different. He says that all men under like circumstances will probably act alike, and so says Divine Truth - ‘They are all gone out of the way &c.’ Who that knows his own heart dares to say: ‘had I been tempted like this Barabbas I should not have fallen’? All Buckle’s statistics showing that, given the conditions, the amount of crime may be foretold, are but simple illustrations of the great truth revealed to us before the days of Mr Buckle that human nature is weak, frail, and more readily inclined to evil than to good; but when he infers from his statistics that man is not a free agent, has neither by Nature nor by Grace, the power to resist the iron necessity that controls him, this is another thing, and one of which I shall remain unconvinced until I am forced to acknowledge that our natural instincts are utterly false, lying witnesses, the offspring of a lying necessity. After dinner Mr Marsh went to see Signor Molino, and Carrie and I seated ourselves on the terrace to look out for meteors, but thin clouds soon came up and spoiled our star-gazing.

Mr Marsh’s morning trip to Turin, return with papers &c was the only joy in our beaten track. The papers too, contained only old news. I was sorry to see however the Gallenga’s first letters from America are as false as those of his predecessor. He boldly asserts that the New York Herald is a semi-official paper. Gallenga’s whole life and history are too well known to admit of much surprise at anything he may do for a consideration, but it is mournful nevertheless

We added some pages of Pasquale Du Pra’s Il Parliamento Italiano to our other reading today. Du Pra is an extremely able man who has proved his patriotism by unflinching endurance of persecution and exile. He is a thorough liberal in his politics, and anti-Romish in his creed. His friendship for Gen. Cluseret once gave me an opportunity of an hour’s talk with him which left a very favourable impression in my mind. I have since heard with pain that his wife complains bitterly of his treatment of her, and that his daughter, who is at school in Turin, speaks openly of her father as un scélérat. I believe that if the facts are ever really clearly known the difficulty between Mr Du Pra and his wife will be found to arise from the fact that she believes in the spiritual power of the priests and he does not. This horrid system of confession is almost invariably the cause of the numberless family-difficulties existing everywhere in catholic Europe. Of course it is not strange that the daughter, whose mother has placed her in a catholic school or convent for education, should regard her heretical father as a scélérat - a “vaut-rien” as our friend the Baron Gautier, who never lifted his hand in his life either [illegible] to help himself or the great interests of society around him, says of poor Campazzi, who earns his bread by the sweat of his brow, and who devotes every leisure moment to look after the education and the well-being of those poorer than himself. The temperature today was as high as 86 1/2 Fahr., but there was a slight breeze and it was not oppressive. The starlight-evening was glorious.

The thermometer rose to 88 1/2 Fahr. today - warmer than we have ever before seen it in Piedmont, but there was air stirring and it was not in the least uncomfortable for one sitting quietly. Our ordinary occupations were interrupted only by the coming of Mr Artoni to dinner. We hoped to learn from him the explanation of the change in the English Embassy from Sir James Hudson to Mr Elliott. Rumour says Sir James insisted on withdrawing and intends to live at Florence.

We managed to get the thermometer up another degree today 89 1/2. The telegram this evening brings no important news of military operations in the United States, but announces the election of the Emperour Arch-duke Maximilian to the throne of Mexico by certain nobles, and with the prospective approval of the people. We have been looking for this new coup d’etat from that old fox Napoleon, but I will venture to prophesy that the United States of America will make him repent this step, and still more bitterly if he takes the one now talked of, of forming an alliance with the Southern States. I have no doubt that the unprincipled leaders of the rebellion are desperate enough now to promise to accept a French Prince in case Napoleon will join them against us - but whether he will really dare to go so far is not so easy to say. What he would like to do is clear enough, what he dares to do time must show. As soon as we saw some days ago that the French at New Orleans had asked for a French frigate to protect them in case of a slave-insurrection we knew in an instant that this request was dictated at Paris and was part and parcel of the Mexican operations. As to the Emperour’s European schemes it is rather a flight of fancy to attempt to divine them. But I believe there is an understanding between him and Austria that he is to have Venice in return for Mexico. This he will magnanimously hand over to Italy and then seize upon, or rather make, a pretext for taking possession of the two Sicilies for his own family, or perhaps Sardinia or both - and Italy will have to submit to it a fight. England in the meantime looks on, seeing the game very imperfectly, indignant at the aggressions of Napoleon, and not daring to put the least check upon them. Perhaps she may by and bye begin to see that it would have been as well, even for her own interests, if she had been less anxious to cripple us. Will she find Louis Napoleon a safer neighbor for her West India possessions than we have been? Possibly not. Next Saturday is the Emperour’s fête, and I suppose Mr Marsh will have to dine with Mr Sartiges in in case we are not in the mountains. If he does I have begged him to tell the French Minister that he cannot congratulate the newly-elected Maximilian, as he might have done, had not his own knowledge of the North-American climate taught him that it would not agree with Emperors. If left to himself I am sure he would say something even sharper than this, and I have only presumed to suggest by way of softening.

Mr Marsh brought nothing new from Turin except a family-letter of interest. It was from Alick, giving an account of his first battle, of his Libby Prison experiences and others in Dixie He says his little band of 1600 - the rest having fled almost at the beginning of the fight - sustained themselves four or five hours against five times their numbers, which they could not have done of course had they not been in a very sheltered position. He has however a bullet-hole through his coat-sleeve to show for it, and his bridle-rein was cut off by a shot three inches from his hand. We had quite a severe thunder-shower today, which was rather welcome as the thermometer stood at 89 1/2 when it came up.

It required a strong effort of will this morning to gather up my little strength, and leave my bed to receive Mr & Mrs Tottenham and their daughter who came out in the mid-day train. We had a very pleasant day and they seemed to enjoy it very much. Sir James, it seems, did not resign but was recalled because there was an Elliott to be provided for. Mr Elliott is a brother-in-law of Earl Russell, has a family and his course at Naples was satisfactory to the Italians generally. I hope we may find them good specimens of their nation, but I am afraid neither we nor they are in a humour to take to each other. Poor Mrs Stanley has at last come to an open rupture with her husband and for the present they have parted with mutual consent. It appears that when she engaged herself to Mr S_ . she knew of his gaming habits and had the courage to accept his promise of amendment, paid 5000 pounds to clear him of his debts of honour, and then fared as she might have expected. He returned to the table, and during their married life she has paid 15000 pounds more! Now, having nothing left but her annuity, and being ill-treated besides, she leaves him. I cannot help asking myself whether it is these trials that have made her so scatterbrained, or whether it is her want of head that has led her into these trials. Mr Stanley looks like a man that a woman of good-sense and firmness with one half of Mrs Stanley’s unselfishness, might manage. They tell a funny anecdote of Mrs S_ and her lawyer. She had just finished the story of her wrongs and her humiliations, had signed some very important papers which left her with nothing in the world but her small annuity from her father’s estate, the wife of the advocate was in tears, and he himself sitting with his hands over his face when Mrs Stanley exclaimed: “Ah! signore, lei non ha dimenticato i franchi-bolli?” “Dio mio,” cried the astonished Italian dropping his hands, “pensavo a tutt’altro!” The Duchess Sforza who knew that the separation had been decided upon, went the same day to ask Mrs Stanley to take a drive with her, thinking she might soothe her a little in this way. Mrs S__ accepted thankfully, but told her she was very anxious to match certain buttons if she wouldn’t mind taking her to a shop, which she did accordingly! It proved difficult - Mrs S. spent an hour in searching zealously after the buttons, seemed to have nothing else on her mind, and then the Duchess took her home! And yet it would be wrong to conclude from all this that Mrs S__ does not suffer. She certainly does in her way. There is another addition to the Diplomatic Corps in the very large person of a certain Mr Rosencranz chargé from Denmark. Odd stories have preceded him, some of which if not true are at least amusing. It seems that bathing is his favorite amusement, and he is not at all particular as to times and places, a [illegible] roadside pump answering his purpose as well as a retired bathing-room. He has also a passion for a morning air-bath which he took regularly near London every morning on an open balcony. An American neighbor opposite sent him word that he objected to this out of regard to his own family. The fur fiery Dane answered: “I shall do what I please on my own balcony,” “and I shall do what I please on mine” retorted the American. “I will shoot you with my revolver the next time you show yourself in that shameless way!” He was seen no more. It always diverts me to notice that it is necessarily an American who figures in an anecdote of this sort. All summary proceedings are laid at the door of my fellow country-men, but young Europe takes great pride in imitating the example.

The American papers are very stormy on the subject of the new Empire in Mexico, though they make no threats, nor do they attempt to say what our government will do. The English Daily News is, if possible, even more indignant. The war-news from home is for the most part very satisfactory. “Jesu Maria! to what saint shall I commend them.’ said a poor woman to Giachino this morning when she gave her something from us to take her to the baths of Acqua -”there is no saint good enough for them!” G__ explained to her that we should be p best pleased if she would pray directly to Heaven for us - that we didn’t much mind the saints as helpers etc - I am afraid the poor creature will expect no blessing on her journey after this.

We had no American dispatch today, in our papers, though Mr Clay saw one in a Paris journal - not important. The Daily News bitterly opposes the French occupation in Mexico, but the L. Times thinks it is a good thing, as it may prevent the restauration restoration of the American Union which, it has to admit, might otherwise be possible. I am intensely anxious to hear what our government will say of the new Empire. I fear it will not feel itself in a position to protest, but I heartily pray it may. Judging from the last news it seems as if the p President was really [illegible] going to allow Governor Seymour to raise the number of soldiers required of New York in his own way, and so virtually allow that vile Irish mob with old Hughes and Fernando Wood at its head to dictate laws to the city and the State, or rather to the general government itself. Oh, for a man, a man, a man!

Today we are told the draft in New York will certainly be carried out. It would not be strange if the government itself were as undecided in its resolves as the papers are contradictory in their statements. [Image] Carrie returned to town with Miss Tottenham to dine with the Pulszkys tomorrow as they are to set out for Florence on Sunday. Mr Pulszky has taken the Palazzo Pietrovitch near the Boboli gardens and says he intends to pack out there (aus packen) all his treasures of art which have lain in cases for so long a time. It is very amusing when a learned foreigner who understands English so well as Mr Pulszky does treats the language in this way. This reminds me of that the new Danish chargé Baron Rosencranz told Mr Solvyns the other day that though he could not speak French very well yet he intended to apply himself diligently to the study of Italian, as he did not wish to be as ignorant as an American Minister of every language but his own. This diverted Mr Solvyns not a little, and he goodnaturedly advised the Dane not to commit himself hastily about American Ministers, as he would find his collegue here not only familiar with European languages generally, but able to speak Danish as well as he could himself.

Mr Marsh went to town by the early train and I was left to a long meditation-day by myself. My eyes would not allow me even to look at a book for a moment, and I expected to find the twenty four hours heavy on my hands. The daylight however p passed quickly enough, and in the evening Signor Molino made me a visit. He has the unmistakable characteristics of an old bachelor, and loves money intensely beside, but he is very intelligent, a thorough patriot, and a decided democrat in the European sense -

Mr Marsh and Carrie came home to breakfast, The dinner at the French Minister’s last night went off very fairly, though most of the chefs were out of town. The Mexican question was only touched upon in an aside here and there informally. The French papers say that the government at Washington shows much dissatisfaction etc., but we have received no instructions from it, and of course must not be sullen till we are told to be, though we shall certainly reserve our congratulations till we are ordered to offer them. The Danish chargé was of the company - a portentous man of the size of Commodore Goldsborough. He seems to have remembered Solvyns’ hint for he addressed Mr Marsh at once in Danish. Perut Peruzzi was Mr Marsh’s neighbor at table, and spoke as he always does with the most sympathizing interest in our American affairs. Talking of Tuscan Mr Marsh suggested to him that its increasing use of picturesque and proverbial expressions must give it a certain vagueness unfavourable to preciseness of expression, and necessarily to preciseness of thought in the end. Peruzzi assented to this at once, and said that he felt this so much that he preferred to use French wherever great precision was desirable, and furthermore that he should much prefer for himself to use French in his Parliamentary speeches, as he often found himself tempted by the very beauty and grace of Tuscan expressions to say more than he really meant to say. During the course of the day a certain Miss Raymond, born in Massachusetts, but now living in Missouri, came to the Legation to request Mr Marsh to obtain for her an audience of the King. She had already written from Genoa on the subject, and Mr Marsh had told her that it would be necessary for her to give him some idea of the object of her visit as he could not otherwise take the responsibility of so unusual a thing as asking audience for a private lady. Miss Raymond said she did wish to see the king for a special purpose but that she could not only not disclose that purpose, but she could not so much as say whether it referred to public or personal matters. Of course Mr Marsh told her that under such circumstances he could not as Minister of the United States ask the audience, but suggested to her that she might obtain one by entering her name on the list of private applicants for that favour, in which case she would be received in her turn. This the person who was with her, and whom she called “the Baroness”, advised her by no means to do, as she thought it would not be sufficiently dignified proceeding. Miss Raymond conducted herself like a lady, but I have no doubt she left much dissatisfied. What she wants is difficult to divine, but there can be little doubt that she has some absurd scheme in her head - perhaps wants the King to put a stop to the American war, or some other equally practicable thing. Certainly the number of sane people on this planet is very small.

We went to Turin this morning, stayed an hour at the Legation and then took the rail for Novara where we had a very comfortable night at the Hôtel d’Italie. The sun scortched us fiercely during our drive from Pióbesi to Turin, but heavy clouds came up while we were waiting for the train and we found the air fresh and cool while in the railway carriage.

We set off early for Varallo by carriage and came up in five hours suffering very little from the heat. We went to the Hôtel d’Italie remembering our awful experience at the Costa last summer.

Leaving servants behind we set off for Mollia by carriage before six A.M. The shower of last night was followed by a wind from Monte Rosa this morning which made us hug our cloaks and shawls in a desperate way. At Mollia, where we breakfasted comfortably, we found return mules for Alagna which we appropriated - one for baggage and one for me, Mr Marsh and Carrie walking. In about three hours we reached Alagna, were pleasantly recognized by the host, dispatched dinner, took tea, and went to bed tired.

Mr Marsh rose at three, looked out and found it raining heavily. I cant say I was sorry, being very tired myself and knowing that he was far from well. We went to sleep again and were up only in time for a nine o’clock breakfast. Carrie had headache, and could neither read and nor write, but managed to carve a very formidable list of “peaks and passes” done by her this summer and last. Her alpenstock really looks alarming, and I am afraid her space won’t hold out for another summer. We propose that she shall send it to Barnum on her return to America. She objects on the ground that he will want her to make a part of the exhibition. I suggest that he perhaps would get up a mountain for her and it might turn out a good speculation. She could put on her mountain-costume and would I am sure draw crowds.

After our dull day yesterday (there were no visitors at the hotel except natives) we made another long night of it and then set off for the Pile Alp about six. The weather was not clear but promised fairly. The snow fell very near us yesterday and the wind this morning was bitterly cold for one who could not walk. We found the ascent of the Pile Alp not difficult and occupying only an hour and a half. The view of Monte Rosa was very fine but hardly so grand as we had looked for. The highest point even of the Vincent Pyramid was cut off by lower peaks and the Höchste Spitze was not seen at all, nor could it be from this spot. Following Murray’s advice and Signore Grifetti’s) whom by the way Mr Marsh went to see yesterday) we pushed on to the crest above the Val di Bours. Our conclusion however was very different from that of the guide-Book or of the good priest. We did not think the traveller ‘well rewarded’. On the contrary the view seemed to us to be every way inferior to that from the Pile except in lateral extent to the right where something is gained but nothing in the least striking. The glacier appears so inconsiderable compared with the Lys that we did not think it worth while to go further; in fact Monte Rosa from this point seemed so belittled in comparason to what [illegible] we had seen from the Belvedere above Macugnaga and from the Col’ d’Ollen, that we were quite disposed to pronounce the whole thing in American phraseology a humbug. We returned to our hotel in time for an early dinner leaving two Italian gentlemen and two ladies to pursue their adventures as far as the glacier. These young ladies walked well certainly, and handled their alpenstocks like adepts, but the amount of crinoline they wore was by no means suited to such an excursion, and embarrassed their fellow-travellers if it did not them. The host of the Albergo del Monte Rosa told us they were Genoese. I am glad to see that Italians are beginning to interest themselves in their own mountains at last. The Opinione Gazzetta di Torino contains a glowing account of the Countess R__. who has lately performed great feats near Courmayeur. After we had refreshed ourselves with a light dinner and heavy draughts of tea we found ourselves in sufficiently good spirits to plan a hard day’s work for tomorrow over the Col di Mut down into the Val Sermenta, but on summoning guides &c. we found mules could not be taken over and that even when at Rima we should probably find none and without them the expense and trouble of getting me and the rest of the luggage down to Balmuccio was something rather too formidable to be encountered - eight or ten men for two days at fifteen francs each was the least we could bargain for, so we thought prudence required us to return by the Val Sesia as we came.

We were on our way down the valley soon after six. The day was very fine and we thought the view near Riva finer grander than anything we had seen higher up the valley. For a half hour at least the hight highest peaks of Monte Rosa were perfectly visible, the purest white against the softest blue. It was wonderful. We arrived at Mollia soon after nine but found no carriages nor much encouragement that there would be one in the course of the day. “Forse, forse.” was the nearest like anything that promised hope. We breakfasted, waited till half past ten but no travellers appeared, and we concluded to go on to Piode Piode an hour lower in the hope of finding some wheeled vehicle there. Twenty rods from Mollia however, we met a carriage, hailed the driver, who promised to take us to Varallo if we would wait while he gave his horses a riposo. He had brought up an English gentleman who was on his way to Alagna intending to cross the Col d’Ollen. We made friends at once, though for some time we were puzzled to know whether he was really a John or a Johnathan. At last speaking of the new French Empire in Mexico he said “and those Americans who want all that continent for themselves - they wont like it.” “No” we said at once to prevent anything unpleasant, “being Americans ourselves we can answer for that; they will not like it.” Our new acquaintance looked as if he had met with ‘rayther a sudden pull-up’ to use old Mr Weller’s favorite phrase, but he was very civil. It is very seldom that I do not instantly recognize an Englishman by his accent but I now and then meet with a man who is only of the gentry, not the nobility, whom it is difficult to distinguish from an American, and it seems that in this case our speech did not bewray us to him. Soon after twelve the riposo was declared to be complete and wishing the Englishman a buon viaggio we were soon trolling briskly down the valley. At Varallo we found the servants well and glad to see us - our host likewise.

Our host, being unable to answer our enquiries as to the how we could cross the Colma di Campello, sent for a priest who he said was pratico of all that country. The priest came, ‘a well-conditioned’ man as Lord Carlisle would call him, and gave us the information he possessed. We did not find him so pratico as we had expected, but he was able to answer some of our questions, and better still he sent us an old market-man who really did know the route thoroughly. This old fellow bargained to meet us at the end of the carriage road near Fobello with a donkey to take me and a donna to take our night-sacks &c as far as Rimella. Soon after one we set off. The weather did not look in any way discouraging for the morrow - in fact it was almost too brilliantly clear.

At one P.M. we stowed ourselves into the little carriage which was to take us a little beyond Ferrara, bid Alessan and Giacchino goodbye with a promise to meet them if all went well, the next day at evening at Orta, whither they were to go with our boxes. Our fine-looking horse dashed off gaily and with seeming good-will, and we were soon off the detestable pavements of the town, and winding up the charming valley. After something less than half an hour the animal became somewhat restive, and occasionally made a full stop. Cochy got out, tried to lead and coax him and finally got him under way again. But it did not last. The brute soon stopped again, and on being questioned the driver admitted that the horse ‘did sometimes behave in that way just here’,) pointing to a large house not very far before us. His explanation was that the former owner of the animal lived there, that he had abused the poor beast which ever since retained the greatest horror of the place, but that if he could once get him past the house he would go perfectly well. He could not get him past the house, and we were obliged to leave the carriage and betake ourselves to the shade of a large walnut-tree while the man took back the horse to Varallo with a promise to return speedily. It was not an unpleasant place to wait. The sun scorched us fiercely while we were in the carriage, and we all agreed that such a sun in New England would indicate approaching rain. Our man returned in time, and we went on prosperously to the end of the road, where we found the donkey &. A few minutes more and we struck off to the right into the valley of the Rimella. At every step as we advanced the scenery became more and more striking, The path was a very difficult one for a donkey, and in some respects a dangerous one for a walker. Much of it was on shelving rock, that would have been very slippery if wet, and the chasm below was sometimes tremendous. The mountains were very grand in proportion, and singularly picturesque and striking in outline. On the whole we should say that this is one of the finest Alpine vallies we have ever been in. The last half hour before approaching Rimella is very steep, though by no means dangerous. We reached the little village before six, found much more comfortable quarters than we expected, and were quite enraptured with the view of the mountains seen from our windows, particularly that towards the south. Having made our arrangements to cross the Colma early the next morning we went to rest, thankful for clean beds and a pleasant rooms where we had expected only discomfort.

Before five our little inn was astir with preparation. The poles we had brought with us were fastened to a small armchair, the straps, also our own, were adjusted to the shoulders of the men who were to carry the chair, and we set off satisfied with every thing but the appearance of the weather which was perfectly bright at four o’clock, but now a little patch of fog was rising here and there. The ascent was steep, and the grass so very wet as to make the walking uncomfortable. We met many of the villagers at work in the hay, some cutting the grass with sickles, other bringing home loads of hay on their heads &c and all seemed astonished at our procession. È una bella roba questa per le montagne, said an old woman as she looked at me and my chair with a no very admiring expression. When we were within about twenty minutes of the summit we decided to turn off to some châlets on our right and wait for an hour or two to see what the weather was likely to be. The fog had increased so rapidly that Monte Rosa and the whole chain of the higher Alps, were entirely covered, and even the nearer mountains were partially lost in it. We determined if possible to pass the night in one of these châlets and wait for another sunrise rather than miss the sight we had come so far to witness. One of the shepherds guided us to a châlet evidently the pride of the hamlet Over the door was the date of its erection - 1630 - ‘as old as the settlement of Plymouth Colony,’ said Mr Marsh, as we went in through the narrow entrance. The interior was perhaps sixteen feet square. A partition four or five feet high divided the and extending half across the room, divided the right hand portion of the space into two small compartments, the one nearest the door was filled up with little sticks and dried roots such as could be found at this height, and served for fuel. The other contained two bunks, neither of them long enough for a grown person to lie at length, and with bedding of a very uninviting character. On our left hand, near the door, was a raised platform either of stone or dried earth which served as a fireplace. Over it and suspended by a chain hung a sort of pot-hook. There was no chimney whatever and the smoke found its way out as it could. Around the wall of the remaining space stood two or three small chests which also served for benches. Two or three shelves were placed above these chests, on them stood one small copper kettle two or three wooden bowls, one of them badly cracked and tied together by strings. Three or four old wooden spoons, two small churns - I think this was everything the cottage contained. The proprietor of this establishment soon came in, & gave us a friendly welcome. He seemed much interested to see strangers, and told us that he too had a son who was out in the wide world. Mr Marsh asked him where he was &c, and in answer the old man said that the his boy first went to Rome, that he lived there several years, afterwards went to Paris, where he was now established as an optitian. He gave Mr Marsh the name and address of his son, and he is determined to look up Mr Gaudenzio Calzino when we next go to Paris. Such contrasts between the life of father and son, though common enough with us, are extremely rare in Europe. While we were talking with the man he made ready and ate his breakfast, I watching the process with far more interest even than I listened to his conversation. He turned a small quantity of milk into one of the wooden bowls, then with the most ancient of wooden spoons he dipped up some dry meal from one of the little chests, stirred this meal into the milk and then ate the mixture without so much as warming it or even adding a particle of salt. I thought I had never seen poverty so poor before. But the old man looked and talked cheerfully, and though he seemed to eat mechanically he showed no dislike to the food he was swallowing. When he had finished his breakfast he told us he was going down to Campello, wished us a buon viaggio and left us in possession of his domicile. After our host had left us we took another observation of the weather. There was no decided improvement, and we were now forced to decide whether we would try to spend the night here or not. We had a good basket of provisions with us which would last through the day - straw we could not get to lie on, but hay perhaps we might, and by filling up the open space on the floor we might stay till morning though we could not hope to sleep. Carrie and I were rather disposed to try the experiment, and Mr Marsh was at first very ready to do so, but an hour’s rest had just made him sensible that he was thoroughly drenched with perspiration, not only his under-flannel and his flannel shirt being completely wet but even his coat, and the cold mountain mists were now making him shiver in spite of a heavy plad plaid. He dared not stay, and the next question was (stick) should we go forward or back. If we went on we must give up the whole object of our trip as there was no sleeping place nearer than Forno, and a hard case at that. It was finally settled that we should return to Rimella and wait for a clear sky. Unhappy souls! We little knew the penance we were preparing for ourselves! We left the saddle and our basket of provisions to the care of the shepherds and returned with downcast faces to Rimella, ordered our dinner, which did not turn out badly and then sat down to watch the heavens. They grew darker and darker, Heavy [illegible] black masses of cloud were rolling rapidly up from the south-east, and by four o’clock the rain began. We tried to believe that this was a fortunate circumstance, would clear off the fog etc, and I went to the sack to bring out my store of tea, which is always consoling in trying circumstances. We then begged the landlord for a coffee-pot of boiling-water. We knew it was of no use to ask for a teapot. The water was brought, but was not boiling as a matter of course. The landlord told us he had no tea-cups, but offered us scudelli in place of them which we accepted thankfully. A scudello in this case meant a large bowl something like a soup-tarrine with a cover. They were just six inches across the top. These being provided we fastened our door, rested our coffee-pot between two chairs, put a couple of candles under it & in a few minutes the boiling steam rolled off out from the top and spout in the most satisfactory way. We had some excellent tea and went to bed with pretty good courage for the morrow

These days may well all be summed up together, being as like to each other as one egg is to another or a my finger is to my finger, or as a negro is to a negro, or any other equally appropriate comparison. We rose every morning to see the mountains covered with thick clouds, with wreaths of mist filling every valley and winding up their sloping sides, We sat nearly all day at the windows, watching now the rain, now the promise of an outbreaking sun, now a hoped-for change of wind, We went to bed at night with the sound of pouring spouts and streaming eaves in our ears, we rose a dozen times if there happened to be as many lulls between showers to see if it was clearing away. We had not brought with us the smallest apology for a book, - the first time in our lives we ever risked ourselves in this way even for a night - Carrie and I had not even a change of clothing, though husband luckily was better provided. We had a needle and some thread for sewing on a button or so, but nothing for mending a stocking, supposing we should reach Giacchino before there would be any want of such repairs. Carrie’s red merino walking stockings however were found to have given out on our return from the châlets. What was to be done. She had a pair of cotton ones with her but they would not answer for hard walking. I was consulted professionally, examined the case, and declared the remedy to be ravelling from the top of the stocking as much as should be necessary to supply the deficiency in the heel. My advice was received with applause, and nothing could be happier than the result. Mr Marsh had an idea not less brilliant in its way. He went to the priest to enquire if there was any place in the village where books might be found. The poor man (rather a heavy specimen) sighed out a negative, pitied us for having fallen even for a few days into circumstances where his harder lot had kept him so long. Not dismayed (stick) by this failure he bethought himself of the schoolmaster, and sent to ask him if he would allow him to see the books used by the children in the school. Oh, what a rejoicing! The master sent in a large pile including even the children’s copy-books, their chat catachisms &c, We were really most thank ful. The schoolbooks were evidently designed for children accustomed to speak a patois (here a strange medley of German and Italian) and the Tuscan words were carefully explained. The chief reading-book consisted of very simple explanations of most of the common operations of daily life in the house, the field, the shop, the church, and would really be a capital book for a stranger wishing to learn the language of common life. There was also a good deal of instruction as to the proprieties and courtesies of life, the duties of children to parents, of citizens to the State &&. In their catachisms great stress is laid upon their sacraments (seven) and especially on the doctrine that there is no salvation out of the Romish Church. The ambition of our host was so stimulated by the success of the school-master that he managed to find somewhere either in his own house or a neighbors’ a volume of the London exposition of ’51, a part of a volume of Dante, an old treatise on medicine and two novels - one Hildreth’s White Slave translated into Italian, the other Isnardo by [illegible] Colleone. Carrie appropriated the White Slave at once but Mr Marsh and I contented ourselves with the children’s literature. Now and then she read me an extract, and I was sorry to see that a New Englander could be willing to send forth hold up such a picture of his native land to the eyes of foreign nations. No one pretends to claim perfection either for the institutions of New England or the character of New Englanders or of the Northern United States generally, but the wider a man’s experience is, the more enlightened his head, and the more loving his heart, the more he will find in that region to admire and to be proud of, the more he will feel that nowhere else are are to be found laws so reasonable, customs so sensible, lives so unspotted, and shame on the man who would cast shame on the mother-land that bore him. A man may fairly admit a particular wrong in such a case but general abuse and contempt is unpardonable, On Sunday an express arrived from Alessan and Giacchino who were in a state of the greatest alarm. We had sent a letter to them by way of Varallo but it had not reached them. On Thursday they sent a messenger as far as Campello, who returned without any certain tidings of us, though there was a rumour there that a party of three had gone up into the higher mountains some days before. In the meantime Alex. had seen an account of a Russian gentleman murdered by his guide in Switzerland, also of the murder of the host of Mattmark by some ruffians, and he had become half beside himself from anxiety. This was just what we feared and it had made us more uneasy than any other circumstance of our detention. Carrie wrote a few lines of explanation to G., our host gave the messenger a good dinner, and he departed, not however without having told us by way of consolation that the road was in a very bad state &c that he had been op obliged to pass through water to his thighs. This condition of things we had anticipated and should have returned to Varallo as we came but for the recollection of the slippery rock-shelf over which we had passed in coming up, and from the fact that the rain of a single day a week ago had made the road between Varallo and Ferrara impassable for some time and of course this longer storm would probably have produced even worse effects. We went to bed Sunday night without any very bright hopes, though the rain had nearly ceased for some hours.

At day-break the sky was cloudless. We hurried our few traps into our sacks, drank a cup of coffee, took leave of our quiet host and the kindly group gathered at his door, and set our faces hopefully towards the Colma. Alas, a few thin broken threads of mist were already barring the eastern sky, and here and there a little tassle of fog seemed to hang from the mountain tops, but the peasantry were all out of their work again, and the peculiar Alpine Hail! was echoed from one hillside to another. Men and women were in the walnut and the ash-trees breaking off and dropping down the leaves which they told us made very tolerable food for the cattle in winter. Others were cutting off the potatoe-tops for the same purpose. When we thought how little the labour of a strong man would produce in this way and how wretchedly poor must be the region where time was worth no more, and then contrasted this extreme poverty with the wealth of the great church of the village, its fine arc internal architecture, its magnificent marbles, &c it did not seem possible that this half-starving population could have raised in a thousand generations the means to build such a structure; And yet the Dr of the village had told Mr Marsh that those grand columns, and a splendid architrave weighing 2000 pounds had been paid for by the contributions of this commune, and brought by the men over these terrible roads, and up these steep hillsides, over rock and stream on their shoulders! In reply to Mr Marsh’s question how it was possible the Dr answered: “It would be impossible for any but the priests to get all this out of our poor peasants. But the priests, signore, the priests can draw blood from a stone.” On our way this morning we again observed what we had noticed the other day - the great number of little wooden crosses placed in little arches of masonry built against the hillsides. There must have been between one and two hundred. Mr Marsh counted 60 in one arch. The initials and date of the death of the individual whose memory they were intended to pres preserve were generally cut on the crosses. The oldest date we noticed was 1830, and our guides told us that these were in memory of persons who had lost their lives in some way by accident on the mountains during the last thirty years. Some had perished from avalanches; others crushed by falling rocks; some had been lost in the winter-snows; others fallen from great heights either when following their herds, cutting grass, or pursuing game. Our landlord at Rimella had previously told us that the snow last winter fell and lay on the earth for a long time to the depth of ten feet. The view before us, below us, and behind us was wonderfully fine, but the mist was rising more and more heavily, and sometime before we reached the chalet of Tuesday’s experience it was evident Monte Rosa did not mean to show herself. The old man who carried our sacks struck off for the châlets to pick up what we had left there with authority to impress a shepherd if he could to help him take his load to the top of the Colma. We pursued our way over very steep pasture-ground, now thoroughly soaked with the late rain, & I could see that the walkers were sometimes in the water nearly to their ankles. When fairly at the top we all drew together under the shelter of a rock and sat down. The view towards Rimella was of the finest character, but down the opposite slope it looked more dreary and desolate. But nothing of all that we had especially desired to see was visible. Monte Rosa and her satellites were wrapped in the thickest clouds. “Pazienza,” we cried, “we’ll come here another year, if we live.” Our guides then pointed out a summit about a thousand or perhaps 1500 feet above us (we were already at at [sic] height equal to that of Mount Washington) where they said the prospect was far finer than from the Colma. This peak is called the Capio - and they said if we would come next July, sleep in a châlet and let them take us to the summit of the Capio before sunrise we should see as grand a sight as we had ever witnessed in the Alps. There was another lofty summit, more to our right as we looked down towards Rimella which Mr Marsh thought must command a wider view even than the Capio. The guides admitted this but said it was more difficult of ascent. This was the Striengo. Having given the men time to dispose of the chicken, the bread and the wine with which we had furnished them we began to descend, expecting every moment however that the great black clouds now hanging over us, would pour down a deluge on our heads. The character of the path had been sufficiently impressed upon us to leave no room for surprise when we found it in some places almost perpendicular. But for the straps fastened to the back of my chair which I brought around my shoulders and held with my hands, and for the thick roll of shawls which had been placed on the edge of the chair under my knees I could never have held myself in it during a large part of the way down to Campello. Still it was not so bad as we had expected. The floods had had time to abate. There was no necessity to wade so deep as when Alessan’s messenger came up, and those portions of the path that had been absolutely washed away were already patched up so that we could get over. In fact our progress was far more rapid than we had ventured to hope for. We reached Campello in an hour and a half and were at Forno not long after eleven. Here we hoped to find mules, but none were to be had. Our guides were evidently much pleased at this, as it would give them an opportunity to carry me all the way to Omegna and so secure another day’s pay. After a dinner and a two hours rest at Forno, (not a very inviting place) our party set out again. The valley of the Strona is exceedingly beautiful not so wild as many others but now and then very grand, and its little bridge and village are distributed as if by the hand of the most skillful of artists. The vegetation too is charming. Creeping vines of every discription, the dark green ivy, many trailing plants covered with flowers, others with clusters of red or black berries, were everywhere hanging from the rocks, draping the bridges, climbing the trees. We reached Omegna about six P.M. - Mr Marsh and Carrie having walked the whole day - a distance of at least twenty miles, not to speak of the stiffness of the climb, and of the steepness of a considerable portion of the descent. On arriving at Omegna we found that the good woman who had met us on the way near Forno and told us that we “were expected in Omegna’ was not in the least mistaken. It seemed as if the whole village were likely to gather in the street before the hotel. One told us there had been a great many there to enquire for us, another said he had waited ever so many nights with his boat to take us down to Orta - in short there was no end to their questions and congratulations, and we were thankful enough when we found ourselves in the carriage on our way to Orta, rickety as was the old vehicle, and restive as wh was the beast which drew it, and drunk as was the driver who conducted it. By eight o’clock we arrived in Orta without shipwreck. Alex. was so much overcome that his voice was scarcely intelligible. Giacchino was more composed, but it was plain they had both suffered very much from their anxiety. Some hot tea and a good bath soon refreshed us wonderfully, and beds were never more welcome.

I was thankful to find the two pedestrians in good case this morning - no blisters - no great lassitude. Immediately after breakfast we went over to the island of San Giulio., saw some very interesting things in the Church, especially the old stone pulpit, and a bas-relief of San Giulio himself - (the St Patrick of Orta,) pronouncing the decree of banishment against the serpents of the island. Not being able to find a boatman courageous enough to take him to ths this nest of vipers the good Saint spread his cloak on the water and in this way sailed over in safety. This incident is also represented. Returning to our hotel we found two English couples, whom we had left there, debating what to do next. Monte Rosa was still hidden by clouds and it seemed idle to go in that direction. Mr Marsh took out his fine maps to show certain points to one of the gentlemen, the other having in the meantime settled himself down quietly over his Times. The talk over the map went on for some minutes, the gentleman with the newspaper paying no attention to it. Mr Marsh’s interlocutor at last spoke of the beauty of the maps: - “They must be very dear, I suppose!” “Oh no” said my husband, “I gave but two francs apiece for them.” The gentleman of the newspaper started at the words ‘only two francs’ as if he had received an electric shot, and the livliest interest shone out in every feature. I could scarcely keep my countenance, and it was the more difficult because I thought Mr Marsh was also disposed to laugh. As soon as we were alone I asked him if he noticed the circumstance. “Certainly I did; you can’t say franc before an Englishman without making him start.” At one we left in a carriage for Arona. A heavy shower soon came on and we had rather a wet time till we reached the railway station. We had in the same compartment with us in the train a beautiful Milanese lady who made herself most agreeable. I was quite fascinated by her and sorry to part with her at Novara where we had to wait two hours for the express to Turin. We dined here, fortunately and were again on our way at half past seven, with the expectation of reaching the capital a quarter before eleven. But alas for human expectation, Our engine failed, and it was two in the morning when the long waited-for substitute took us safely up to the Turin station. On our way to the Hôtel d’Europe one of the horses spu stumbled so badly as [illegible] nearly to occasion a catastrophe, and we were thankful enough when we found ourselves safely in the Hôtel d’Europe in the magnificent apartment on the first floor which fronts on the Piazza Madama, and the Via

Our post contained no bad news, and we breakfasted in peace at ten, after which Mr Marsh went to the Legation, Carrie and I finished off letters, the servants went to see Madame Ghirardi about the house, Gaetano was sent to Pióbesi with provisions for dinner and directions to send carriages to the station for us at five. At half past four we paid a very loud bill for our apartment tea, and breakfast, and drove to the station. Here we met Mr Carutti, a very pleasant surprise. A lively old gentleman, evidently a man of rank and position entertained us in the most agreeable way as far as Candiolo where we got out in a pouring rain. Gaetano was there and we were soon whirling off towards the old Castle, the horses smoking, the mud flying and the rain pouring in streams from our umbrellas down our backs. We found the gardener’s wife at the station of Candiolo returning from Cavoretto, and Mr Marsh took her with the little Pinotto into the carriage he would otherwise have had to himself, and as he drove on before us it was really melancholy to see the poor woman’s gay ribbons wilt under the storm. We met with a the hearty welcome at the door from Carlo, Susanne, Antonia &c and were soon sitting at our own dinner-table everything looking just as when we left.

Raining again this morning - fine weather for bringing up lagging work, looking over American papers &c. Before night we were so thoroughly in the track again that the last fortnight seemed quite like a dream. In the evening the Baroness came in, bringing the avvocato Fava, an intelligent liberal man. The Baroness does not look well and complains of almost constant fever. She tells me that it is really the delicate little Countess Rignon, whom I fancied so much, that has done the great feats in the way of mountain climbing which have been trumpeted in the papers as the doings of the Countess R__ . I am delighted that the Turinese are waking up to their mountains. The Baroness herself greatly regrets that she cannot pass more time among them, I forgot to show her C__ ’s stick on which she has carved her exploits. By the way, her head is so full of stick that today when I expressed my surprise on learning from some American paper that Fanny Fern who was Mrs Farnsworth when we left was now Mr [s] Parton, C__ said: “Why the woman will have to get her a stick to cut her husbands’ names on!”

After the morning writing Mr Marsh read to me from Du Pra’s Parliamento Italiano, and from Buckle, The latter becomes more interesting as the proportion of his facts increases and that of his own speculations diminishes. I wish I could communicate to Ausonio Franchi the extracts he gives from Hooker & Chillingworth as to the authority on which Protestants rest their faith. When Mr Marsh was hoarse I betook myself to Carrie who read German to me for an hour when dinner was announced. After this, we were made painfully sensible that the long evenings are rapidly approaching. By half past six it was quite too dark to do anything. When tea was over Carrie read some nice things from the Revue des Deux Mondes, but I dread this evening work on account of her eyes.

We took a seven o’clock breakfast this morning in order to allow Mr Marsh to go to Turin. For several days the display of fruit on our table has been worthy some horticultural show. This morning we measured a peach which proved to be nearly eleven inches in circumference, and that too, measuring it not in its oblong direction. Its quality we did not test, but one measured yesterday at dinner ten inches in circumference was found to be excellent. Mr Marsh brought no news of special interest from Turin. The American news generally favourable but not important. The Italie contains a sharp article on France because she does not incline to give up the brigands. It seems impossible that the Emperour can be base enough to refuse to surrender them. Montalambert’s speech on liberty of conscience produces some stir, but the Armonia, though it speaks of the discourse, makes no allusion to the subject. - . Mr Clay and Mr Artoni came out at six, and brought the glad news of the surrender of Fort Sumter. We had not looked for it so soon, and our joy was the greater. We celebrated late in the evening, to the great delight of Gaetano, who, for certain reasons of his own, prays for a great Federal victory every week.

The temperature and atmosphere today were like those of one of our softest Indian summer days. The gentlemen seemed to enjoy the garden not a little. They talked, read, lounged &c while Mr Marsh and I stayed in-doors and read the concluding chapters of Christiana’s pilgrimage. The evening paper brought us later news - the request of the French and English consuls in Charleston that the further bombardment of the city be susppended till they can get off with their property, and that of the Charleston people themselves that they may send off women, children &c. It would seem that natives and foreigners alike had already had warning enough. The Confederacy is said to be screaming to the Emperour of the French for help, and Jeff. Davis sends out a circular to show that they have quite as much the advantage in the contest as has the U.S. Government. But the richest item is the report in the Toronto Gazette (the same that a few days before declared we were preparing to send a hundred thousand men to divide the two Canadas) that “a conspiracy has been discovered by which it appears that the U.S. Gov. is on the eve of attacking Canada!” A later telegram say this rumour lacks confirmation! It is really no small compensation for all the abuse the English Press has heaped upon us during the last two years and a half to see what a terrible bugbear we are becoming to them as the prospects for the restoration of the Union brighten. These remours will provoke a shout of laughter and derision throughout our whole country.

An article in the American Times received this morning speaking of France and England and our relations with them comes to some very sage conclusions. After speaking of England, her embarrasments, and the absolute necessity of peace as her only safety, the editor says of France - that she is dying of a mortal and incurable disease - that Russia is destined to remodel Europe and that young America and this young giant have already stretched out their hands to each other. It concludes with: “Let the heathen rage!” Mr Marsh does not fully sympathize with the writer in his sanguine hopes of the beneficial influence of Russia on modern civilization, but he does believe that both England and France are ‘post meridian’ and that their course toward us during this rebellion will serve to accelerate rapidly the day of their doom. The Italian papers contain little of interest today except an account of the funeral of La Farina who died last Saturday from Typhoid. We have seen no inconsiderable number of the great men of Italy pass away since we came here. The Armonia, as might be expected from the nature of the thing, take this occasion to launch an anathema against the memory of the great man who has just been called away.

The telegram today is that Chattanooga is in possession of Rosencranz [Rosecrans], and consequently all Eastern Tennessee cleared of rebels. This virtually gives us another state. The Confederates are calling loudly on France for help, but the most important item perhaps is that Davis has, with the consent of the governours, directed the arming of 500000 negroes to fight for the Confederacy under a promise that they are all to have their freedom with a bounty of 50 acres of land when the independence of the South shall have been achieved - “God moves in a mysterious way. His wonders to perform.” It seems as if He in His wisdom had determined to make the South itself the instrument of the deliverance of the negro. When the North, faithless to the high part she should have performed, yields weakly to the most unreasonable demands of the South for the sake of peace, He suffers the South to go on in its career of madness until at last she forces the reluctant North into self-defence. But even yet the free States are not ready to do their duty, and the government at Washington is ever far behind the people. Then He gives victories to the South, and more victories, until the government and the people of the United States find there is no alternative but to make war on Slavery as well as on the Slave States. Then the tide turns in our favour, - success rapidly follows success, until there is serious talk of an approaching reconstruction of the old Union - And now it is apparent that there are not wanting men in the North as anxious to say save what remains of slavery as are the men at the South, and while we stand half aghast with fear lest their infernal system should in some way or other have its wretched life prolonged, lo, the arch-rebel himself steps forward and cuts the knot. He proclaims freedom to at least every able-bodied negro that can be found in the States which still profess allegiance to him; and after this will our government when the rebels are conquered, put these men or their families back into bonds? - those bonds from which their masters themselves have released them? I trow not, Aand if the war goes on, even if France comes int in to the aid of the traitors, the negro at least has had his chains broken, for which God be praised.

Alex returned from Turin at one o’clock having been sent there to conclude the arrangement with the Ghirardi for the rent of the rooms on the pian terreno of the Casa d’Angennes to be used for the Legation. Madame, however, though her promise had been perfectly distinct, declared that on the whole she wouldn’t rent them at all - that they were worth much more than the 3000 francs for which she had offered them (3000 francs for three low rooms, one with small windows facing the Via d’Angennes, the other two only looking out on the court!) and that she would not now give them up to any one till the first of March. Pazienza! say the Italians at every breath, and there is need enough of it when dealing with such a madwoman as this. This evening the Morning Post says that the English government have concluded to stop Mr. Laird’s piratical proceedings! The taking of Charleston has proved with them a weightier argument than justice, honour, or even the interests of their own manufacturing classes. If Englishmen in power had not shown themselves for centuries beneath all sense of shame in their intercourse with foreign nations they might be supposed to blush on this occasion. The Diritto says that the Emperour of the French has signed the order for giving up the brigands to the Italian government. I trust this is so.

The Avocato Molino passed the evening with us, which was rather a relief, as, when we have our days entirely without interruption, we are tired of reading and writing by dinner-time. He is by no means a siher sigher after the good old times, but rejoices in every forward step that is taken.

Our occupations were as usual with the exception of certain preparations for another mountain excursion. Mr Marsh spent some time with the carpenter in trying to realize a chaise-à-porteurs which he had idead some days ago, and Carrie and I had our little odds and ends to look out for. For the first time for many weeks the mountains are perfectly clear all day. If these trips were not so expensive they would be even more tempting than they are. I hinted as much to Mr Marsh the other day, and he hushed me up by saying: “Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk about want of means except in the most secret recesses of our chamber! In Europe It is no disgrace to be mean, but it is unpardonable to be poor” - One would really think that this last was the truest of truths to judge from what we see and hear of the doings of the rich in their intercourse with their inferiors. Among the developments which have followed the animated discussions about the retirement of Sir James Hudson, is the charge by the French, said also to be supported by the declarations of the Italian Ministry and the subsequent coldness of our King himself towards Sir James, that he interfered with the movements of Garibaldi last autumn in such a way as to bring about the collision between the great patriot and his government, the object of the British Minister being to turn the threatened storm from Austria, and produce a rupture between Italy and France. Mr Sartiges openly declares that this was the case, and says there are abundant proofs of it which History will be able to make use of. I can believe anything of the intrigues of the British government against France or any other nation which it believes its own interest [illegible] requires should be weakened, but I find it hard to suppose that such a man as Sir James Hudson would consent to serve as an instrument for the overthrow of this fair kingdom he is thought to have done so much to elevate. Poor Garibaldi were he not one of God’s own inspired prophets of liberty, the treacherous snares that have been spread for him on all sides and by almost every hand, would have destroyed his faith long before this, but, like Jeanne d’Arc, neither the neglect of those he has best served nor the rage of his enemies, nor the treachery of those who creep into his confidence for the very purpose of accomplishing his ruin - none of these things move him.

We were by ourselves all day - that is C. and I, Mr Marsh not returning from Turin till six. In the evening the Baronne Gautiers and the Avvocato Fava came to us. The former was very eager to know what we thought and believed about Davis’ Proclamation calling on the Negroes and promising them their freedom. We had a hearty laugh over the club-room gossip of Turin, which is that the Emperor of France has called on the Italian government for a contingent of 100000 men to carry on the war against the government of the United States. Mr Marsh promised the Baroness letters for her son which should secure him the best of treatment when prisoner of war. The prospects of the new King of Greece and of the Archduke Maximillian were then considered and Mr Marsh settled the question as to whose were the most enviable in favour of the Prince of Denmark on the ground that he was much nearer his friends in case of the catastrophe which would inevitably befal them both. The two gentlemen went into the Library after dinner tea and Fava, who speaks French badly and prefers Italian when he can use it, told Mr Marsh that though Piedmontese was the language of his childhood he had always spoken Tuscan and perfectly understood everything that was said in that language, yet he himself was not understood by the common people of Ancona. Their own language he says is very pure and he has not the slightest difficulty in comprehending every word they address to him, while on the other hand his Piedmontese accent so much embarrasses them that they do not know what he is saying. The educated classes who have been more accustomed to hear varieties of pronunciation understand him perfectly but say at once - “Oh, you are a Piedmontese!” He instanced the word studio. “Now,” said he, “I know very well how this word should be pronounced, but in rapid speaking I give the u a semi-French sound, and the o and indistinct vowel sound, and except by an educated inhabitant of Ancona I am not understood. Fava is Procureur du Roi at Ancona, an officer whose duty it is to attend to the legal rights of such persons as cannot afford to pay lawyers, he receiving his salary from the government.

Gaetano’s wife and little girl came out to spend the day. The mamma is plain, but not less briosa than her husband, and the daughter does her parents no discredit. The bells were ringing for the festa while I was talking with the mother, and she broke out into a lamentation over these endless feste which she declared were not per devozione but to cavar i danari. “If I had the power” said she “there should not be more than four in the year, for they ruin poor people and they cause so many accidents and so much vice”. I was much amused at this expression “if I had the power”. In itself it proves the astonishing change that is going on in the minds of this people. The little girl recited a long poem, the burthen of which was bella, bella Italia - giardino della Natura - very pretty and very patriotic. The child with her heavy black hair, her very dark complexion, keen black eyes and irregular features, reminded me forcibly of George Sand’s Petite Fadette. This morning we finished Selden’s Table Talk, and though there is much in it that is very pithy and very terse and the book is both instructive and amusing, yet I confess I should never have thought of ranking it where Coled Coleridge does. One of his anecdotes amused me particularly. When Sir Robert Cotton was examining what he believed to be a shoe that had belonged to Noah or Nebuchadnezzar or some such old worthy, and wondering at its most extraordinary shape, my lady Cotton said to him quietly - “Are you sure it is a shoe”? Speaking of the Puritans Selden says “he declares he would be judged by the word of God: if he would speak clearly he means himself, but he’s ashamed to say so, and he would have me believe him before a whole church that has read the Word of God as well as he.” No man however was a stouter champion for private judgement than Selden. In the evening we read an interesting article of Marc Monnier’s on the late discoveries in Pompeii. Little Carolina came in with her mother to say goodnight, and repeated another poem in which the virgine benedetta di Rimini, (the winking Madonna) was invoked to open the eyes of her faithful Italian children and convince them that the sciochezze del papa e dei cardinali were not la vera chiesa di Dio. What a muddle there must be in the heads of the people in this transition state! In answer to questions about reading the child said she dearly loved story books and little poems, everything in fact but libri di devozione which tired her dreadfully and put her to sleep! A seven-year-old child this!

A note came in from Lucy Tottenham this morning to tell us of the death of her brother in India. An hour later Gaetano brought another from Mrs T. herself. This is the first child she has ever lost out of her ten, and it will be an overwhelming blow to her and to them all. They seem a most affectionate family, and I feel very sincerely for them. The Post brought no letters from America, and the papers contained nothing we had not already learned through the Daily News. Opinions vary so much from day to day on the great political questions that they are hardly worth recording, but the general belief today is that the Archduke Maximilian will not accept the Mexican throne, and that the French Emperour will not meddle further in our affairs. Quien sabe? A spirited little tit for tat is now going on between the papal government and the Italian one. The authorities of Naples, having detected the Pope’s consul there in a treasonable correspondence, sent him home. Thereupon the Pope sent out of Rome the consul of Victor Emmanuel. Upon this the Italian government has ordered every Papal consul throughout the kingdom to take himself off, and report to the Holy Father that his services were no longer required. The National Committee, which has long been carrying on its operations in the very heart of Rome, defying all the skill of the police to detect who are its members or where it assembles, having lately found that some of its own friends acting in behalf of the so-called Party of Action were issuing publications to the detriment of the Good Cause, seized the other day their printing press and all their papers, and put a stop to further operations, Aand even after an event calculated to excite so much stir and gossip, the Roman government is unable to find out anything whatever about the transaction. This would seem incredible to one unfamiliar with the astonishing art, cunning, and secrecy which tyranny begets. I forgot to mention in its proper place, last Saturday, of an offer made to Mr Marsh by a wealthy Hungarian officer who said he would take to America for the service of our government three hundred veteran Hungarians armed and equipped fully, and would pay their expenses over provided he could be sure that they would be received into the service and that at the end of the war he should be repaid simply the expense of their passage. Mr Marsh was obliged to say that he had no authority whatever to commit the government to anything of the kind, and that he had written to the Secretary of State so often asking instructions with regard to similar offers, none of which had ever been accepted, that he was unwilling to press the government further. It grieves me to think how many experienced soldiers, hardened to bear every kind of privation and fatique, are here longing to help fight our battles, which our young men, delicately brought up and with constitutions half formed must go and lay down their lives without being able to do anything like so effectual service as these fellows might, and be none the worse for it. A cannon-shot to be sure would be fatal alike to the one and the other, but not so the hardships of a long and desperate campaign. I have no doubt that the presence of large bodies of foreigners, foreign officers &c would create some embarrassments, but I think if Mr Seward and others in power would condescend to accept a few Hungarians and Italians in the place of the hoads of hoards of Irish they encourage our country would be none the worse for it. In the evening we began one of a series of articles in the Revue des Deux Mondes on the Diplomatic life of Lord Malmesbury embracing a period of thirty five years, commencing towards the close of th the reign of Frederic the Great. He served at different courts and seems to have been a man of great ability as a negociator, to have had remarkable social qualities which gave him unusual influence at the various courts to which he was accredited, as well as a man of admirable private character. Yet it is astonishing that a man like him could reproach the French government with political intrigues, brand Frenchmen with every hard name for their insincerity &c, and yet at the very same time be proposing to his own government to make an effort to bribe Catherine’s Minister Potemkin, and suggesting that it might be well to excite Catherine’s jealousy of Sweden and Prussia by calling her attention to some visits etc which had lately taken place between the Royal Houses of those two Countries. The price of Potemkin, he admits, would be high, perhaps not less than $4000000; but thinks the money would be well spent! As to the insinuations about Prussia and Sweden he does not pretend to believe that there is the least shadow of foundation for them in truth, only he proposes to take advantage of certain circumstances to give a colour to them, and in fact says that he has already begun the good work on his own and responsibility! If such things are done by an English Diplomat of rare private virtues it se would seem to me that English Diplomacy has little right to reproach French Diplomacy with its colour.

After Mr Marsh’s return from Turin we read Buckle again, and re-read a part of Carlyle’s Diamond Necklace, which we have neither of l us looked at for twenty years. In spite of all my dislike of much that this great man has written lately; in spite of my contempt for his unworthy and miserable prejudices, I never take up his earlier writings without the liveliest admiration, and a feeling of real gratitude to him for the intellectual stimulus they afforded me at the age of twenty. Just before we left the dinner-table a carriage was announced, and our visitors proved to be the Healeys of Boston, friends of our good friend Mrs John Paine. We were very glad to see them, had a nice talk of friends and interests at home, and parted like old acquaintances. We were glad to learn from them that Mrs Cleaveland with her family is in Europe again.

After dinner Carrie went, with Giacchino, to pay the Baroness a visit and to tell her that we expected to leave on Friday for another week in the mountains. Our post brought us nothing new of interest, and it has been every way a day without adventures.

The carpenter brought home the new chaise-à-porteurs this morning and we set to work at once to mount it. There was carpeting to be prepared for the seat, and back, and footboard, - webbing to be arranged for the straps, and in fact, after a very hard day’s work we were called to dinner before the thing was fairly in shape. Mr Marsh had worked steadily with his tools in remedying some of the carpenter’s blunders, and on the whole we were glad to find that we might as well set off at three P.M. tomorrow as at 6 A.M, which was our first intention. The Baroness came in after tea to wish us buon viaggio. She was quite excited about Rénan’s book, and evidently wishes it might be seized and burned, and the writer properly admonished at the same time, but she admits that this sort of practice has not proved very successful even in the good old days, and that it is probably too late in the age of this little planet to venture on any further experiments of that kind. I told her that I was sure she was quite right. The time had come when we must boldly look all such questions in the face, that they were never more to be even temporarily stifled, that for myself I had no fear as to the final triumph of Christianity, no matter to what tests it might be subjected, but that it must be the business of all those who loved it calmly to investigate all the objections that had been, and should be in our day raised against it. She sighed and said: ‘Yes, this is all true, and one has need to be more than an apostle to sustain one’s self against those who assail the Faith.’ She then passed on to speak of a scandalous book which has lately appeared in Turin under the title of Femme galante, the object of the author being to discredit royalty both here and in France by revelations of such a character as the title of the book would suggest. She stated told several anecdotes, and more insinuations contained in the work (I don’t know whether a volume or a pamphlet merely) altogether too scandalous for one to think of, much less to write about, but when she told me that she had not seen the publication herself, but that an officer, a friend of hers from Turin, had just been telling her about it, my first thought was: ‘Thank God I was born in a country where no young officer would venture to offend a lady whom he respected, by entertaining her with matter like this.’ I could hardly imagine the refined and graceful woman before me listening to such communications from such a source. We returned once more to the subject of the press, and I said that feared far more the effect of such publications as this she was just speaking of than any thing that might be written in the vein of Rénan’s book. Works like the last might shake the faith of some, but they would arouse thought, and, consequently, give fresh intellectual vigour and life, and so at least something would be gained, while from the other there could be nothing but unmixed evil. She evidently was surprised that I thought anything could be so bad as heresy, and we dropped the discussion.

Instead of a journey today I find myself obliged to keep my bed, and after talking the subject over quietly we have decided to give up any further mountain expeditions for this year, it being already so late and no probability of my being able to go for some days. Towards evening when I felt more like myself again Mr Marsh read to me a very interesting notice of the recent discoveries in chemistry by the famous Pasteur. His experiments seem absolutely conclusive on the subject te of equivocal generation and it is hardly probable that it will ever again find really intelligent supporters. His revelations also with regard to the process of fermentation are most curious. It sometimes really seems as if we were getting one step nearer to Natures’ most precious secrets, and it is not strange that scientific men sometimes feel as if they had almost laid their hand upon the very principle of life.

Again we had to bear a disappointment from the post. - no letters from brother Charles from whom we have been hoping to hear every day for the last three months. We cannot explain this silence on his part, and that of all Mr Marsh’s family friends, and it is impossible not to say to ourselves: if he were not ill he would certainly write, if he were ill, some we one else would. Our own disappointment however was soon forgotten in the terrible news brought this evening to the gardener’s wife - her young brother of twenty three has just been shot at Cavoretto, mortally wounded, by a Frenchman. The poor fellow was returning from his day’s work driving his bullocks before him - our little Maurizio and another boy following close by him, As he passed the house of the Frenchman the latter fired upon him with a double-barreled gun, and then a revolver. The messenger who came for the sister knew nothing more. The poor woman set off at once with her baby for the station, but she had hardly been gone ten minutes before the gardener’s anxiety about her overcame all the obstacles in the way of going himself, and he followed her.

Before breakfast this morning we learned that the wounded young man died before his sister arrived. The parents and indeed the whole family are quite wild with grief. The assassin has been caught by a brother of our gardener who pursued him as far as Moncalieri where he caught him and held him till one of the gend’arm gendarmeria came up. All we can learn still is that this Frenchman is a man possessing quite a fortune, that his wife went to Turin Friday and received the dividends on 70000 francs in shares owned by her husband in the Vittorio Emanuele railroad, that she refused to give up the money to him yesterday when he demanded it as she knew he was going off on a wild frolic, and would probably waste it all; that he became furious at this refusal, and threatened to shoot her, that she made her escape from the house and that he then shot this young man merely because he was the first object that came within his reach. Much of this story seems improbable, but nothing more will transpire I suppose till the trial. One thing is certain the murderer did not mean to fail as he fired three or four times at least, and probably any one of the wounds would have been mortal. For the sake of the family I greatly rejoice that his life was spared long enough to permit the presence of a priest. This is another instance of the blindness of all our efforts to save those we love from hardship and danger. Three months ago this young man was drafted as a conscript, and his parents and other friends gathered up all the little earning they had saved for many years and paid the government 3,000 francs for his release. Mr Artoni came out last evening, and this morning after breakfast I was strong enough to join the circle in the drawing-room There was no telegram last night, and we had only Italian matters to talk over. Mr A. is very sanguine as to the future of Italy, but he cannot help admitting that there is every now and then some striking proof that the aristocracy of Turin has not kept up with the great forward movement. Since the shocking developments with regard to the Ignorantelli an effort has been made to get up a good school for the higher classes, or rather for such as can afford to pay well, (there are already very good public common schools not under the control of the priests) and it was thought necessary to raise about 50000 francs ($10,000) for the proper buildings &c. The first application was made to the king, who cheerfully gave them [illegible] 15000 francs, or nearly one third of the whole sum. Who could believe that after this the remaining 35000 francs could not be raised in the whole capital! Is it the influence of the priests, or is it mere love of money? But while such things are happening in Turin a man dies in a provincial town Pavia, refusing to receive the usual absolution and sacraments at the hands of the priest. The latter refuseing burial after death, and upon this the whole population of the town gathers together and the body is carried by them to the grave with a fine band of music playing solemn airs and with every other token of respect. It may well be said that Italy is in a transition state. Gaetano brought us stirring news in form of a despatch. A “Fort Moltrie [Moultrie],” as Carrie gaily translates it, “has jumped into the air!” (è saltata in aria) and the Federal cannon hold Charleston completely in their powed power. Now Heaven be praised, and may they not leave, for the sake of common justice, and as a decent example to future generations, one stone upon another in that petty little town which has been the fomentor of all these horrors. When I say that in addition to this news we are assured that Chattanooga also has fallen it will be understood that Gaetano was consoled by the remnants of a large punch-bowl. We certainly have no more ardent sympathizer in Federal victories than this faithful footman of ours. Last Sunday night when told that he might go home with his wife and child and that he need not return till next morning, he enquired of Giacchino whether she were quite sure that there were no new victories, and that there might not be a bowl of Punch! [Illegible] I had home-letters more than usually satisfactory, by Mr Marsh had nothing from brother Charles.

Nothing new by mail. We began finishing off several little odd jobs which are easier done in the country than in town, doing a little reading and writing besides. After a month during which my eyes have been almost entirely useless to me for anything beyond merely looking at nature and the household objects about me, they promise a little better today, and allowed me to look at a book for five minutes with impunity. Giacchino brought home from Turin sheets, blankets, covers &c for two new Hospital-beds, our parting gift to the Piobesans as a community, but there will be some large private necessities yet to look after. The establishment at which G. got the woolen blankets complained bitterly of the scarcity of cotton, and said they would no longer offer to the poor cheap, soft, cotton blankets formerly so common. But one can’t help feeling the truth of the homely old proverb: ’It is an ill wind &c for while we hear of the terrible injury our rebellion has been to Italian manufactories we learn at the same time that the increased price of cotton has tempted Sicilian land-holders to try to cultivate it on that beautiful Island, and that already their success is so great that there are not arms enough, as they express it, to perform the necessary labour [Image] Another curious instance of the effect of our civil war on individuals the humblest and apparently the most removed from it is stated by Monnier who says that the excavations at Pompeii are now going on with redoubled activity as the industrious young girls who have hitherto worked in the cotton mills have now offered themselves to carry off the rubbish thrown out by the spades of the diggers, and in this way a great deal of work is done, besides affording the spectator the pleasure of enjoying a very picturesque scene. We were much amused by a notice in the Revue des Deux Mondes of the new title of Duke just conferred on Persigny. The writer after very many droll remarks says something to this effect: - that in former times it was the custom to add to a title the name of some city or province which made it sound grandly - such as Duc de Gênes, &c&c which had not been done in the present case. Also, that it was a Spanish custom in some instances to add to the title a word, or words, which hinted at the character of the individual or the services performed, as for instance, Duc de la paix, Duc du traité, &c and suggests that Monsieur Persigny might ’have been called Duc du devouement, or Duc des élections, which would have sounded very well! This had not been done however and his friends must be contented to know him simply as Le Duc de Persigny -

Another day has flashed by us leaving no results except in the shape of certain trifles begun long ago and finished at last - perhaps neither worth the beginning nor the finishing. Husband brought nothing of especial interest from Turin - The Saturday Review a little less better than when we were apparently in greater trouble, - the Athenæum with its less open ill-will, and the Daily News frank, fair, and manly. The Opinione tells the story of the failure of the subscription for the school with evident mortification, but attributes it to the indifference of those who undertook to raise it, or perhaps rather to the absence of everybody in villaggiatura. It also speaks of still another discovery of the infamous doings of the Ignorantelli in a neighboring town the name of which has escaped me. In the evening we went on with Lord Malmesbury, and read beside a very funny article on Home, or Hume, and his spiritism. It is really amazing to see how fearlessly this Revue attacks the Emperor and all his works - not by name certainly, but in the most unmistakable manner. It is curious too, to contrast this French periodical with the English Saturday Review. The former is candid, earnest and generous, contains articles on the most abstruse subjects written with a profoundness of research that excites the highest admiration, and everywhere manifests a thoroughly liberal and progressive spirit. The latter is unfair, sneering, and selfish, talks of things it does not understand with a flippant arrogance well calculated to impose upon those who have searched no deeper than the writer, and its general tone is that of universal ill-will towards all the world, and a determination to stick to all the old worn-out usages of its insular China till the crack of doom, if it lasts so long.

Mr & Mrs Gajani came out to dine with us. We were very glad to see them, and enjoyed their short visit extremely. They are both most patriotic Americans - the one by adoption especially. Mr Gajani knows many of the most intelligent men either resident in Turin or brought there by the government, & will help us break out of the charmed circle of the haute société. Mrs G__ . strikes me as a woman of excellent practical good sense. with no nonsense of any kind about her. I should think she spoke both French and Italian extremely well, though with something which the English call the American drawl. We learned from them that Count Castiglione who was sent by the King to get some American wild animals for him, is to bring home an Amer a New York wife - for himself, as Mrs G_ says. The Gajani’s have been spending three months in the Romagna with the husband’s parents to the great delight of Madame, who seems to have the gift of gathering honey everywhere. How differently she feels from poor Mrs Valerio, whom a bad education has made incapable of finding pleasure in any situation where she herself is not the central point.

More home-letters this morning, and very satisfactory generally though we have nothing yet from the source where we are most anxious. Mr Kasson announces his safe return home and writes rather encouragingly about our national affairs though he admits that Mr Seward is determined on making the earliest peace possible without quarrelling about the peculiar institution. In fact every effort seems to be making by copperheadism to get back the ‘Union as it was’. Mr Chase is resolute in opposing this scheme, but what between the desperate determination of the old pro-Slavery Democrats and the stupid blindness of the so-called conservatives and the timidity of a large class of real patriots, there is no knowing what may happen. Our only certain way of escape from the danger of having Slavery refastened upon us, lies in the South itself. “More madness, Lord, give them more madness” must be the prayer of everyone who looks upon this cursed institution as the cause of all we have suffered, and as sure if preserved to bring upon future generations still greater calamities. The spirit of the people of the West, Mr Kasson says is for the complete uprooting of the whole system - he even thinks they are prepared to go too far. I don’t precisely know what he means by this, but I am afraid he has a little touch of the so-called conservatism about him. One piece of domestic information he gives was very gratifying - his wife, he says is thoroughly cured of her Romish propensities - may she never have a relapse! His account also of his presentation to the King of Belgium, his dinner with His Majesty and the Crown Prince is quite interesting. He would make a first rate Diplomat with a little more knowledge of French, and I hope he may someday be so employed by our Government. We spent the morning over the second batch of proof-sheets from the new book, bringing it down to 130 pages, and we find it very correctly printed. This evening as we were making some enquiries as to the gardener’s plans for the winter we found to our astonishment that he intended to pass the winter months with his wife and children in the little stable under the terrace in front of the library! This stable consists of two compartments the one behind the other, the interior one being intended for the cow in winter though she occupies the other in summer. Of course she is driven through the gardener’s only room night and morning during all the cold season! The explanation the gardener gives of this mode of life is that he cannot afford wood to keep his family warm elsewhere for so many months. We were really shocked to think that a man who had worked so hard all summer in the garden and the fields, his wife washing for our household and her own, and working our doors every spare moment - that these two could not in this way earn enough to afford a winter fire, but must take refuse in a stable with light only from two or three panes of glass when the weather will not permit them to leave the door open. Giacchino tells me that this is the common practice among the peasants here who have stables at all, For instance the family who have the charge of the so-called cascine just opposite us, were still living in the stable when we came here last April. In this case the family were not even separated by a partition from the cattle & Giacchino says there were eight beds (the family is a very large one) all under the same roof and in the same room with the animals, and so they had lived for nearly six months.

The rain which began yesterday still continues and the chill autumn feeling it has brought was not diminished by a message brought us this morning from Mr Artoni: “The Countess d’Angennes says the house will not be ready for you before the 15 of October, and, in my judgment, she might as well have said, not till the first of November.” Here then we are without the least chance of getting settled in town before the bad roads and the cold winter are fairly upon us for the winter. Pazienza! - Thanks to this good people for that word. I fancy the relief one feels after having uttered it with unction as our Methodist friends say, is something like that which a certain class of person feel when they make use of more emphatic and less christian ejaculations. A little scrap from F.D. Maurice addressed to Carlyle in the Daily News on the subject of his American Iliad amused me not a little, and came so à propos of his Gigmanity which we had just been reading in The Diamond Necklace. On the whole T.C. has been very severely handled both by the English and American Press for the levity and the falsehood implied in his few words on the subject of our terrible war. The Italian papers contain interesting notices of the agricultural fairs which are beginning to be held in various parts of the Italian kingdom. In Lombardy there have been some very fine exhibitions - one landholder alone sent in a hundred yoke of fine oxen, and no less than a hundred and forty beautiful specimens of different varieties of grape. It is really delightful to see how fast Italy is coming up with those who have long had the start of her. Though the great staples of her industry: silk and wine, are threatened with ruin, and she has in consequence suffered great losses yet she is rapidly turning her attention to the cultivation of other things and it is to be hoped in a few years more the agriculturalist will reap such a harvest from his lands that he can afford to pay his labourers fairer wages, and that in this way the poverty of the lower classes may be deminished.

I was very sorry to see this morning an article in the Opinione evidently inspired by the French government. One year ago this same paper speaking of the Emperor’s course in Mexico says: ‘Italy must forever disapprove of such interference with the internal affairs of foreign states, or be false to all the principles for which she has stuggled and bled’. Today it says: ‘If the Emperour and the Arch-duke Maximilian shall succeed in establishing a strong and stable government in Mexico they will have done the world a great service’; and in alluding to the United States it says: ‘as that government intends ultimately to possess itself of Mexico so its present policy is to keep up a state of anarchy and confusion in that unfortunate country.’ I do not give the words but as nearly as possible the spirit of the article. Of course the opinion of the Italian government on this subject is of no consequence to us as a nation, but as friends of Italy it is painful to see the influence of France drawing after it such men as one would expect even for consistency’s sake would show more independence. Mr Artoni tells us that the Perseveranza of Milan, s no less a semi-official paper, has an editorial today on the same subject quite in the opposite sense. We have known from the first that some members of the Ministry were entirely French with regard to our cause, and we ought not to be surprised to see now and then something that looks unfriendly, but so much the worse for them. It is so difficult to make Europe understand that the South is responsible for the filibustering of the last thirty years, that the real people of our country, in other words, our country itself, does not want more territory, and that when its extension is spoken of no one dreams that it is to be by conquest. We know the value of our institutions, the happiness and the prosperity they have brought us and we feel sure that ultimately our neighbors will beg to be allowed to enjoy the same blessings, but until they are enlightened enough to know their worth and to ask for them we should consider them only a curse. On the other hand how can it be supposed that we shall patiently be told by a French usurper “I am going to put a stop to your further extension”? It may be that he cares as little for the rest of Africa as we for Mexico, but how would he take it if we were to send an armed force to the borders of his Algerian colony with a frank declaration that our intention was to prevent him from taking possession of any more territory on that continent? - I wish these things did not make one quite so indignant. Mr Artoni arrived to dinner in the midst of a violent thunder-storm, with wind rain and hail that made me really tremble for him. He was tutto bagnato but nothing worse. | Today the papers say not a single death has occurred in Turin. (Population 250000)

Giacchino has just brought in a little basket of nuts from Marian who says her poor mother has been crying all day because she had nothing to give her children to eat. I felt reproached for not having kept a more careful eye upon them knowing they were so destitute. What is to become of them this winter is difficult to foresee. Poor things they have not even a stable to go to. This reminds me to notice that after being so much shocked to find the peasantry were obliged to live in common with their cattle during the winter I learned from our Marie who really has quite a little fortune, that she considered it a very happy thing to be able to retreat to a stable for the winter, and regretted that they had no cattle, and consequently no stable! Towards evening I saw the gardener’s wife, and had a talk with her. She is much distressed by the loss of her brother and says her poor old parents will never lift up their heads again. This evening a fresh telegram gives promise of a near approach of an outbreak with France, and Charleston not yet in our hands. However we have seen darker days and I trust in Heaven that we may yet shake the throne of that impertinent quack who calls himself Emperor of the French. - certainly neither by the will of God nor the will of the people, only by the sufference of both.

The American papers contain Charles Sumner’s speech in New York, the portion of which relating to foreign affairs has called out so much indignation in England. It is however as usual in such cases so vilely printed that no eyes could stand the reading of it. As far however as I can judge it is really a softened picture of the course our magnanimous mother has taken during this fiery trial of ours. It must have cost Sumner no small sacrifice of feeling thus to tell the truth to a Country where he at least personally has been treated with great consideration and kindness. But he is not the man to forget personal obligations though the truth may compel him to say what must be distasteful even to his best friends. The Turinese journals contain a notice of certain street hawkers who profess to sell by the authority of the Church faithful portraits of our Saviour and several saints taken by celebrated artists during their own lifetime. I shall try to get one of the handbills if possible, as I like to take home with me the proofs of things so often denied by Romanists in our country. In our reading today in one of the concluding chapters of Buckle’s first volume we came across his explanation of the reasons why Calvinism and Democracy, Arminianism and aristocracy, generally went together. He says that Calvinism which secures salvation by faith is a cheaper religion than Arminianism which rather secures it by good works - that the poor therefore chose Calvinism, the rich Arminianism! It seems incredible that a man of Buckle’s intellect and learning could put forth such childish nonsense as this. It is true that the Swiss were once mostly Calvinists - it is true that the Puritans were Calvinists - and it may be considered equally true that Calvinism is Democratic in its tendency for it certainly encourages that independence of thought which always leads in that direction, but if Mr Buckle would look a little sharper at the statistics on which he places so much reliance, he would find that the Calvinists are not less ready to pay for their religion, to pour out their money in what he calls good works than any other division of the christian church. No other certainly has ever voluntarily so generously supported its pastors, so liberally provided for the instruction of the young, contributed such immense sums to every imaginable benevolent object. If they have not erected such magnificent Cathedrals as the Romish Church has done (and who shall say that Rome is less Calvinistic than Arminian) yet they have multiplied their little churches in every corner of the earth to which persecution or an intelligent desire of improving their own condition and that of others has carried them. It is not a week since talking with a thinking Italian that he said to me: “You want to see the church here as entirely separated from the State as it is in America, but let me tell you that if our clergy depended as yours do on the voluntary offerings of the people they would starve. There is no class of Italians who would do anything to sustain them; they will not give like you Calvinists. The church might might [sic] now and then get a legacy from a dying man, but this would be all. Without the government they could not be supported for six months”, and yet the present practical teaching of the Italian clergy is certainly in favour of good works, and with them no work so good as that of giving to themselves. But does Mr Buckle suppose that the idea of ‘good works’ consists wholly, or even in any considerable degree in the act of bestowing ones goods? Does he think the poor Calvinist thinks himself less in a condition to perform ‘good works’ than the rich Arminian. The learned author is certainly not strong in theology. In the evening we kept ourselves awake with Carlyle’s Dr Francia.

Mr Cocchetti’s card roused us very unexpectedly from a German reading, but we were very glad to see our visitor. Mr Marsh was in Turin for the day, so our friend decided to wait and dine with us, taking a walk to see the Baroness in the course of the morning. The Baron only was at home, and Mr Cocchetti soon returned. We talked over Pegli and acquaintances there, and learned from Mr C. that poor Campazzi is well and living on one pupil as usual. Of other friends he pretended to know no more than we?. He has wandered about widely - Courmayeur, Acqui - Riquaro - Spezia - Florence &c, is rather improved in health though far from well. Sir James Hudson, he says, has taken a very large wreck of a palace on Lago di Garda. The edifice, grand externally, belongs to an uncle of Mr Cocchetti but the interior was entirely destructed as he expresses it by the Austrians, and used as a barrack. This palace was occupied for a time by Lady Montagne, though it is not the one which has been looked for in vain on the Lago d’Iseo. We talked a little of the French, Mexico, &c and I found what is clearly enough to be seen in all the Italians one meets, that Mr Cocchetti entertains a hope that Italy will some how or other get Venice from Austria in exchange for this new Empire. I don’t think they have yet learned anything whatever of the true character of their wily ally. They don’t love him nor trust him, but they still hope great things from him.

In my notes yesterday I left out the most remarkable event of the day - the appearance of Mr & Mrs De Zeyck at the Legation, and the actual payment on their part of the 250 francs sent Madame last summer. They profess to have received remittances from America and I trust Mr Artoni and Mr Clay may fare as well as we have done, though Mr De Zeyck’s hot indignation against Mr Marsh for reproaching him for his recklessness in borrowing from every possible source, is no doubt the spur that has driven him to make this most unexpected payment. Mr Marsh tells me that it is quite curious to observe the freight on the railway just now. There are long trains of wagons carrying vats filled with grape which are taken to Turin to the wine merchants who make the wine under their own eye in town. - In talking with Cerutti this yesterday Mr Marsh was distinctly assured that the Ministry had no responsibility whatever with regard to the article in the Opinione, and that he, Cerutti, had not even seen it or heard or it until put in his hands by Mr Marsh, also that he was quite sure his chef was equally ignorant of it. He admitted however that it was in a very unfriendly tone, and that as the Opinione was semi-official they ought to set it right. Mr Marsh still thinks that the article was written by an impiegato of the Ministry, though he does not doubt Cerutti’s assertion that neither he nor the Minister of Foreign Affairs knew anything of it. Dina himself assumes the responsibility when talking with Mr Artoni about it, and says it is in accordance with his convictions. Dina has generally been friendly to the United States, but he knows little either of them or their political principles and aims, and is not a man of very broad views on any subject, though a sharp-sighted and keen observer of what lies near to him. As a specimen of his breadth I may say that he thinks it a matter of indifference to the general progress of humanity as to what becomes of our Republic if only the slave of the South is made a free man. The Post brought us nothing of importance. The New York Times had been anticipated by the English Daily News. It however contains Mr Seward’s last circular, and an editorial complimenting Mr Sumner’s speech highly. The Daily News on the contrary contains a long speech from Earl Russell vindicating his course towards us and complaining bitterly of Sumner. He takes good care to avoid special charges, says nothing whatever about having kept back Mr Seward’s note with regard to the Trent affair, makes no allusion to Mr Adams’ declarations that the English government was furnished with abundant proofs of the character of the Alabama, and that nothing could explain the delay of its action except a wish to let the pirate get off. On the whole it is well calculated to make those who are not minutely acquainted with all the facts believe he has acted fairly, but it will only serve to strengthen the convictions of those who have believed him capable of any Jesuitry. The Diritto has an amusing anecdote that occurred at the time of the late Review. On the evening of the 24th at the gala in the great Milan theatre they played the Marseillaise to the great disgust of Count Sartiges who it appears was present against his will. When the air was struck up he leaned forward to the minister of Foreign Affairs and exclaimed: “Comment, Monsieur! Est-ce-que on joue cette musique là en présence même du roi et ses ministres?” “Mais Monsieur,” replied Venosta, with a tact that would have done credit to a more experienced diplomat, “on a cru vous faire plaisir en jouant votre air national.” As to the Mexican question it seems perfectly certain from the paper that Maximilian will accept the throne, and that he won’t.

Preparations for our journey into the south of France, and the post, used up the day very thoroughly. The burthen of the English papers is still Sumner’s speech, which they complain of bitterly in general, but are silent on the subject of his most important facts. The speech may have a bad effect at home by rousing prematurely the popular feeling beyond what it was before, but I believe it will do good in England notwithstanding the outcry they make against it. It will make the government more careful, and fix the attention of the English nation for a moment at least upon the possible consequences of the course that has been pursued. In the evening Mr Marsh read to us Carlyle’s Prinzen-raub. He is a capital writer to shorten a long rainy autumnal evening.

The weather was so unpromising at six this morning, - the hour at which we must decide - that we concluded to postpone our journey until Monday. Husband went out very early to take a look at the clouds and meeting little Marian with her cow, she said, “Cerea, Signore, ha riposato bene!” He was much pleased with the salutation of the poor little thing, whose manner, he says, would have done credit to a high-bred maiden. We never cease to wonder at the native courtesy of the lower classes in Italy. Carrie passed an hour with the Baroness in the evening.

Mr Marsh brought from Turin the bad news of Rosenkranz’s [Rosecrans’] check - we fear severe defeat in Tennessee. It would seems we have not been chastened enough yet. Can we need much more before every soul among us shall be willing to do away the accursed thing at once & forever! The Baroness Gautier spent the evening with us and we discussed Mahomedanism among others things. I think she got some new ideas that may soften her heart to pity at least the Musselman, though she may feel none the less sure than before of his certain condemnation.

Dr & Madame Monnet passed the day with us. We learned some interesting facts from them especially about the Vaudois. A son-in-law of the Dr keeps a Latin-school in one of the valleys, & many boys come to it from very poor families. These boys bring their bread from home - enough at once to last from one to three months - also their sheets. They then are received into some decent family which furnishes them with a bed and a soupe maigre once a day and also does their washing - and for this they pay three francs - or sixty cents, a month. I could not have believed this statement from a less trustworthy source, and these are the boys who become the pastors and teachers of the Vaudois. We talked over Rénan a little and found the Dr and Madame differed as widely with regard to him as a Vaudois Protestant and a left wing Unitarian might be expected to. The Dr was kind enough to visit at our request the poor sick girl who has been the victim of one hundred and fifty bleedings not to name leaches during the last six years. To our astonishment he declares that she has still vitality enough to be made much more comfortable, and will undertake to get her into the hospital at Turin for us. The Director of the Piòbesi hospital has just sent a handsome note of thanks for the bedding we have sent them; but the gratitude of poor little Marian’s mother is far more gratifying.

We took the morning train for Turin, intending to wait at the Legation till one when we were to leave for Susa. After greeting Mr Clay and Mr Artoni I took a carriage to go to Mrs Tottenham, whom I felt I must see before going away - but we met her on her way to see a friend at the hotel. She was much overcome and my heart aches for her.  On my return to the Legation I found Mr Max Müller was in town, and had sent to see if he could find Mr Marsh. It was already so late that I persuaded husband to put off our going to the next train at five. This gave him an opportunity to pass two pleasant hours with the great man and his pretty wife, and we were still able to reach Susa in time to make all necessary arrangements for the morning.

In obedience to telegraph we found young Borgo had a fine carriage ready for us and we set off this morning at seven for Briançon. For an hour or more the road, which struck off to the South, was quite as good as that over the Mont Cenis and the view we thought finer. Every new zigzag brought us again and again directly over the town of Susa which certainly gained by distance. The inhabitants of this place had struck us as remarkably coarse and ill-looking, but the further we proceded up the Dora the more comely the people became. One girl we noticed in a little hayfield just by the roadside had a very remarkable face. Her large dark flashing eyes were set off by a very brilliant complexion, her n nose delicate in outline, gave great power of expression to her face by that peculiar spread of the nostrils which shows at once high spirit and strength of purpose, and there was a curl about her beautiful lips

Our night quarters proved more tolerable than we had expected - the dinner was fair, and a strong south wind cleared the atmosphere from what was most disagreeable - so that when we crossed the bridge over the Romanche I left unperformed the vow made on first entering the town - namely, to pierce a hole in the river-wall and give the Bourg at least one washing. The wind continued very strong for a couple of hours after we were on our way back, and soon after a fine rain set in & when we reached La Grave it was almost an ouragan, and a rainy one at that. The contrast between our passage of this col de Lauteret [illegible] yesterday and today reminded Carrie of Birdofreedom Sawin’s return over his ‘happy mornin’ track’. Everything, in fact, was changed except the three or four fine tunnels which had struck us so much yesterday, and the terrible desolation of the lower mountains which we could still see - The glaciers were almost entirely lost. After a long riposo at La Grave we set out for the summit in a smart rain with a wind that made the carriage tremble, and this continued all the way to the Hospice on the top. Here we thought Borgo wished to stay, as it was already half past four, but the temperature was fast growing colder, and we feared the whole summit of the pass would be deeply covered with snow before morning. He goodnaturedly consented to come down an hour, and we drove into Le Monetier just as it was growing dusk. - Happily for us there was a respectable inn here; instead of passing through a stable we entered at once a comfortable little dining room nicely warmed by a very Yankee-looking stove. Our bedrooms though small were perfectly neat, and there was an air of comfort about everything. I was delighted to find they could only give us a chicken, an omelette, and some boiled potatoes for dinner, as, if they had had more we must have waited for it to be cooked, - a long waiting as we learned last night. This simple fare was soon ready - some cheese jellies, and fruits added - and we went to bed satisfied and th thankful.

We were much pleased to find the rain over this morning - the more so as Borgo had been obliged to leave the carriage out in the street all night, there being no remise in the town - not even the humblest shed under which he could run it. At eight we were on our way, having paid four francs apiece for the chicken omelette & potatoes, and 2 francs apiece for some bread, butter, cheese & honey this morning, with lodging to match. But one pays in this way to these poor innkeepers, living in such mis erable out of the way places, far more cheerfully than one bears the extortions of a Swiss landlord on the greatest highways of travel. We were very glad to find that an abundance of coal had been found in these valleys, and our host at Le Monetier had a good anthracite cooking-stove in his kitchen. We ran down to Briançon in less than an hour and a half, and left it on our left hand without entering. It is prettier from a distance rather than seen within its own walls and we had not the least wish to renew our intercourse with the Ours. As soon as we turned to follow the course of the Durance which bends her to the south, the sharpness of the wind up from which we had really suffered was much diminished, and we were soon almost comfortable again. The peaks of the Pelvoux group were visible on our right just above La Bessée - indeed the whole chain in that direction showed itself finely, but the bright sunshine soon passed, and it was quite plain that we must again expect bad weather. By the way, the report from the Col this morning by the diligence was that the it experienced a violent snowstorm there during the night, and had made its way to Le Monetier ‘avec beaucoup de peine’ - From Bundle - the name we gave our boy of the renforts from a dispute between my husband and myself as to whether a checked blanket which I observed on the box behind, contained a real live christian boy or only d’ clo’ - we heard nothing - but I hope he got back safe to La Grave Also it appears that the diligence was not stopped by brigands, though Mr Marsh insists that he saw two on our way down, one of whom he described as of the ‘female persuasion’, the other ‘a boy f about four year old.’ They were both armed certainly but though Mr Marsh gave the weapon some very terrible name it looked to me extremely like a long crooked iron tool which they use in this valley for digging potatoes. This morning we made our halt at Saint Crepin, a sorry place - about 15 miles from Briançon. Our servants, after taking a look at the inside of the auberge, advised us to spend the two hours & a half in the carriage, and as this counsel was quite in harmony with our conclusions from an outside inspection, we did not hesitate to follow it. Husband got out and made friends with a chatty old woman who gave him some curious information that the peasants were almost without exception proprietors, owning at least a little patch of ground - the field just before her, for instance, was owned by many different persons, and some of the divisions, which she called bancs or bands, could not have contained more than the 20th of an acre - mineral coal was abundant there and they warmed themselves cheaply - they were so poor they seldom eat meat - the taxes and the administration of the forests were the ruin of the peasants - if they took the least stick in the woods they were siezed by the garde forestiere & fined - every thing was taxed even to the light & air admitted by a window - she herself owned land enough to produce twelve or thirteen sétiers of rye & three of or four of wheat - she paid taxes for that land to the amount of twelve or thirteen francs a year - she had some animals on which she paid ten francs; the rate a year being ten sous for a sheep, thirty for a cow, and thirty for a goat. (on account of the its destructive habits?) - nothing for a donkey - that recently there were some new Communal taxes which would add to their burdens - &c &c - After this talk with the old woman Mr Marsh set out to walk till the carriage should overtake him, leaving C. and myself to amuse ourselves as we could. We filled up our time with watching the boys and girls that grouped themselves about us, and I had occasion to notice again what I have frequently observed before - whenever we entered into conversation with any of those about us, if another person stepped up and tried to join in the talk the one first spoken to would say rather roughly to the intruder: “Hush, hush, these strangers don’t understand your patois.” A poor old woman from the fields was snibbed as old Wycliffe would have said by a boy of eight years old. The old dame was intelligible enough, but the boy, who spoke the school-French took this method to get rid of her. This reminds me of our amusing discussion between two boys of six or eight while we were waiting for the formalities on the frontier. The urchins, after carefully inspecting the carriage and horses concluded that the value of the whole establishment could not be less than 2000 francs. As to ourselves, after listening to our conversation together for some time the one told the other gravely that we spoke a patois, and must therefore be Piedmontese! Before the riposo was over the weather grew decidedly worse and the rain came on in a few minutes after we drove off. Mont Dauphin was about a mile and a half beyond St Crépin on our right, and looked very finely as we drove past it. This fortress was suggested by Victor Amedeo II. During the first French Republic the name was changed to Mont Lyon, but the old name was restored afterwards. In 1815 this fort refused to open its gates to the allies - It contains splendid trees, generally elms - 4000 of which are said to have been planted by Monsieur Massillon, grand son of the great preacher. A periodic wind prevails here owing to the confluence of the vallies of the Guil and the Durance, the Rioubel, the Vars and the Risoul, and its earliest name was Mille-Vents. In the course of the afternoon we passed over the beds of several wild torrents, none containing a very small quantity of water, but the devastation they have caused is something really fearful. Mr Marsh had walked 13 kilos or more than 8 English miles when we overtook him, tutto bagnato, as Borgo said. We arrived at Embrun about half past five, & forgot the fine wall and trench and gates as soon as we were fairly inside the town, where the streets were in the worst possible condition, narrow and dirty to the last degree. The Hôtel de Milan, the only one that made any approach to decency, was bad enough. The officers of the garrison were making merry in the dining-room in a most soldierly way. Alexander looked black as midnight, but Borgo found a remise for his carriage and smiled, which was some comfort under the otherwise melancholy circumstances. Giacchino told me that the stable question was doubly important tonight, as the poor horses were not able to lie down the night before. I enquired why; “They had no room.” The stable was very very small, and when Borgo took in his horses there were were already in it a cow, three or four sheep, a dozen ducks, some chickens, and an old woman and a maid servant had h each of them a bed there!” Then there was a drain just behind the horses, and they could not lie down without getting into the water.”

The morning was fine as the hostess fortold to me, and Mr Marsh took an early walk about the town, and after his explorations came back and took Carrie over the same ground. The most interesting items brought back to me were, first, the law with regard to the vintage - it being strictly forbidden to gather any grapes before the 5th of October, and then no interruption was allowed in the work until the 12th. This seemed such a strangely arbitrary regulation that Mr Marsh asked an old man why it existed. He said that any one whose vineyard was walled in might gather his grapes when he pleased, but, as for the most part there were no distinct divisions between the small grape fields, if every one cut the fruit of his own patch whenever he liked there were constant complaints from adjourning proprietors that their divisions had been trespassed upon. But if every man was in his own field on the same days there could be no dispute. Another curious street-notice referred to the Octroi. Embrun contains about 3000 inhabitants, and the octroi is farmed out, as we say, to the highest bidder - the upset price being 20000 francs annually - what a tax for so miserable a population! There was also a placard from the abbé Arsac, offering to designate the proper places for wells - services gratis for the poor, but for reasonable compensation from the rich. One other fact Mr Marsh learned which must strike an American with astonishment. A fine salt-spring, discovered near the town, had been filled up by order of the government. The revenue from salt is very important, no doubt, but when one sees the gray, dirty-looking substance used by the poor under the name of salt, and used as sparingly as if it were gold-dust, one cannot help asking why, if the government must have the monopoly of salt, it does not at least take these springs into its own hands, and increase the quantity and the quality of its sales by improving the article, and making it more abundant. I should have said that Embrun dates back to the Roman times - anciently Ebnodunum, and when we drove out of it we all agreed that the accumulations of ages could alone explain its shocking condition - first a fire, and then a flood, and such a flood as these mountain torrents that sweep everything before them could cause, would alone cleanse this human den. It is a curious fact that in addition to all the terrible conflicts these valleys have witnessed between Protestants and Catholics, many of them were long in possession of the Saracens who came here in the ninth century. It was higher up in this valley that the famous Protestant pastor Neff was born. - From Embrun we drove to Gap - turning off from the Durance to the right not far from Savines. Torrent after torrent we crossed, some with beds of astonishing width, and a large cross created near each. This custom we have observed ever since we came into this desolated Dauphiné. At a small town called La Bâtei Neuve about half way between Embrum & Gap stood a very ancient castle, of a striking appearance. All we could learn of it was that it was formerly of great military importance but was dismantled in 16__ by the Piedmonstese. At Chorges we were to have seen some Roman remains - a pedestal which according to the inscription upon it once suported a bust of Nero, &c - but the Church in front of which they are preserved lay out of our way. As we drew near Gap, things began to look more prosperous - in fact as soon as we left the immediate valley of the Durance, so washed & wasted - we came upon a better looking region and the views from the eminences were often exquisite - the wide, wide vineyards, golden with autumn-tints, now covering a rolling hill, now hanging like a bit of tapestry almost against a naked rock - now trying to establish themselves as it were in the very beds of the torrents among heaps - mountains - of pebbles - then the green meadows with the tall poplars, the walnuts and here & there an old chateau - the brown hills behind with their black ravines infinitely ramified, and high above all the great white glittering snow peaks to the east. There is a fine avenue & walk outside the town of Gap and the whole aspect of the plane was cheerful. Its manufactories of [illegible] wool & silk explain its comparative aisance. Borgo pulled up at the Hotel du Nord - really neat & comfortable - and we were soon quietly settled in our rooms and discussing what to do next - Mr Marsh wished to leave the rest of us here and take a guide and go tomorow morning to St Bonnet, thence up into the Devoluy, a district lying at the junction of the three Departments of L’Isére, Le Drôme, and Les Hautes Alpes. St Bonnet is famous as the birth-place of Lesdiguièares, the terrible Protestant chief, who finally followed his great master Henry IV in his sham conversion to the Romish church. The Devoluy is accessible from St Bonnet only on foot, and its frightful desolation is the real object that attracts the traveller here. The mountains are washed bare of every thing like vegetation, and their rocky skeletons are crumbling into fragments which roll in huge masses to the ravines below. Headlong torrents sweep down their sides during heavy rains carrying with them loosened rocks and stones with a noise of thunder for down the wasted valleys which are now as desolate as the mountains themselves. We were told that after a twelve or fifteen miles’ walk from St Bonnet among these fearful ruins Mr Marsh would find a little hamlet called St Etienne where an adventurous traveller might possibly sleep, and another fifteen miles’ walk the next morning would bring him to Veynes where we might meet him with the carriage on the way to Serre. It was decided to follow this plan if the weather should be good, and we slept upon this resolution.

The rain began before midnight, and continued some time after we were up in the morning, so that the Devoluy scheme was regretfully given up. Later it cleared somewhat, and we set off for Serre. The torrents we had to pass were swollen, but not so much as to impede our way. The country through which we passed had many interesting features, but nothing very striking till we were near Veynes. Then we could see a few of the bared mountains of the Devoluy looking in the distance like vast ash-heaps. In the immediate valley we were in there was still much vegetation. The hand of the government - beneficent for once - was everywhere visible. The willow, the maratime pine, the poplar, were planted in such portions of the torrent-beds as could be partially protected from the floods. The crests of the mountains were fringed with young forests of evergreens, and many of the slopes on which nature had gathered every possible shrub to hide her naked bosom, were as gay with red and green and orange and purple as ever I have seen one of our own Vermont hillsides. And on the débris at the foot of these slopes, which really seemed little else than heaps of stones, were spread the finest vineyards now in their full glory. The huge clusters of ungathered grapes were all the more visible as the autumn winds had swept off most of the leaves, and the ground looked sometimes almost black with the abundance of the dark purple bunches, here entirely free from disease. The peasants were everywhere busy gathering this lovely harvest, and we stopped twice to supply ourselves with the lucious fruit. Fortunately they condescended to sell it here, but on the Durance we found it was a matter of pride with the peasants not to take money for their grapes, and of course we soon ceased to ask for what they could ill afford to give away. These ‘points of honour’ to be found in every class among mankind, and yet so infinitely varied furnish curious subjects of reflection. We make no riposo today, the distance from Gap to Serre [Serres] being only about 25 miles. Two or three miles before reaching Serre we struck into a narrow and most desolate-looking gorge, and I really could not believe when we saw the stone marked ‘one kilomètre to Serre’ that any human habitation could be so near. A sudden turn however brought us in sight of the few houses that compose the town, and a very lovely fertile basin lay just below it. Beautiful children were playing in the road on the outskirts of the town which in itself had a miserable appearance, & I looked in vain for the famous family residence of Lesdiguières said to be still the finest house in all this part of the country. The Hôtel de Moulin which was our destination looked anything but inviting, but Carrie and I both felt ill and were in a frame of mind to endure anything that could offer a bed on which to throw ourselves. We were shown two rooms each containing two beds precisely in the state they were left by their occupants of the night before. The coarse, unbleached linen sheets looked, and felt to the fingers, as if they were made of dark-coloured horse-hair - the condition of the floor was what might have been expected. Alessan. was very lowering and at last dashed off in search of something better elsewhere though we warned him that his search would be fruitless. We watched his returning steps from our windows with no small interest, but as soon as he saw us our feeble hopes were dashed by that peculiarly significant gesture - a horizontal motion of the fore-finger just in front of the nose. Nothing remained but to conciliate our stormy-browed host, who was indignant at discovering that our servant had gone to another house. In process of time he was pacified. Alessandro and Giacchino superintended such clensing processes as were possible under the circumstances, and when after an hour we were shown again into the same rooms the change seemed as marvellous as magic. The beds were covered with the whitest linen, if not of the finest, at least not of the coarsest, white napkins covered the [illegible] rude stained wood tables, the floors were thoroughly swept, the dust carefully removed, and there was an air of positive comfort about the whole. Mr Marsh who had not yet put down his walking stick, now even took off hat and overcoat, and we all proceeded to make preparations for a night-halt. An hour later we were served with hot boiled potatoes, some beef which the cook said was à la mode, two pigeons & a roast-chicken, [illegible] the latter a palpable case of sudden metempschychosis [metempsychosis] from a very ancient cock. We did very well however, the potatoes were good, so was the gruyère, and the vin ordinaire - excellent in itself - was only watered to a paint not past the palatable. When we went to bed it was raining furiously & I was inexpressibly [illegible] thankful that Mr Marsh was not wandering at large among the torrents of Devouluy.

No improvement in the weather this morning, indeed we dared not set out on our journey again while the rain was falling so fast - especially after we learned that the diligence had been detained five hours in the night by an eboulement. The torrents too were serious things in this weather and we resolved to wait for the change that comes so often about mid-day. In the mean time Alex__ had asked for our bill for the night and found, rather to his astonishment, that we were changed five francs apiece for our dinner. In reply to a somewhat energetic remonstrance on his part the landlord said very curtly, “À moins de cinq francs on ne dine pas chez moi!” and ‘besides,’ he added more apologetically, ‘I have asked only twelve francs for the rooms which is altogether too little’. We ordered the bill to be paid without further parley and seized the first lull in the storm to set out in search of other, though very possibly not better, quarters. The country between Serres and Remuzat is only interesting as an example of the view that may result from an improvident waste the forest. Every where denuded rocks, vast mountain-slopes striped of vegetable-mould and pouring down torrents through the channels worn in their sides, huge mounds of commmuted slate black as volcanic ashes - all the effect of the rain on a steeply inclined soil stripped of trees. We passed over some eight or ten unbridged torrents at most of which several men were at work clearing out of the road the largest stones brought down by them, filling up the dangerous gullies they made, and directing the traveller where to pass cross most safely, Most of them were heavily charged with mud, but many a bright clear waterfall came bounding down over the hard limestone crests or burst out through some flinty wall. The sky grew black again soon after we left Serres, and before we reached the watershed between the valleys of the Durance & the Rhone we found ourselves in a driving storm of rain & hail. At last we saw the Blème running one way and the Aigues the other & hoped the latter would take us into a milder climate. No great change however was perceptible as we followed its rapidly rolling mud-waters down to the point where its joined by the Oule near Remuzat. Here we struck off from the main high way, crossed a fine new bridge and in a few minutes were in Remuzat where we were to pass the night. Borgo drew up before an inn of most unprepossessing aspect, Alex__ asked for rooms, understood there was but one for the whole party, and thereupon lost his wits. His first order to Borgo was to turn the carriage round. As I saw from the window that this was impossible in the narrow street where we were I tried to countermand the order, but A. utterly deaf, ran off in some other direction; neither could we make Borgo who was on the box hear through the storm. The experiment of turning was tried, the horses became unmanageable, dashed the carriage against the door of the Remise, broke the tongue and our only remaining window. Fortunately no other damage was done, but Ales. who had hurried back on seeing the catastrophe, was now more frantic than ever - ‘bel lavoro, bel lavoro!’ he cried, and we saw no more of him for the next half hour. In the meantime Mr Marsh went into the house, found it had capabilities and well disposed inmates. Two small rooms were shown him, each containing a double bed, and the landlady promised him a third, not however without having first put the question: “Est-ce que vous avez quelque chose à vendre, Monsieur?” To understand this question I should previse that Jew-travellers except commis-voyageurs ever visit this region, and Mr Marsh was extremely diverted at being taken for a pedlar. We told Giacchino the good news about the rooms, but she was scarcely more herself than Alex. had been, and his continued absence really frightened her. We did not like to mortify him by giving orders for dinner &c ourselves, but were obliged to at last. The poor fellow finally came back looking decidedly humble. - He had been more than a mile to look at another house the sign of which he had seen far down the road across the river - forgetting that if he had found a palace there we could not get to it with our carriage - tongue gone, and in such a pouring rain! By degrees he quieted down, Giacchino finally recovered her composure, our rooms were settled, as the Irish say, and we were soon at table with a smoking dish of boiled potatoes before us, some álamode beef, a fillet of roast pork, two pigeons and a partridge. This was a triumph. Then we had excellent gruyère and a fine dish of grapes to crown the board. It was certainly not pleasant to be obliged to pass from the dining-room through a regular old Roman impluvium and then up a very wet and dirty staircase to our rooms, but when we were once in them they were not so bad. The beds and linen were clean and comfortable, and we really had the means of washing face & hands, though the basin would not hold over a pint of water. I have often seen those of the pudding-dish form before but never one so Lilliputian.

Rain, still rain, After a council held, we decided to try to get on as far as Nyons without waiting for the flood to abate. We were the more anxious to do this as the river was constantly rising, and a long detention here would be rather serious. Besides we were encouraged by the post-boy who assured us there were no torrents to pass between Remuzat and Nyons - that the only danger was from petites pierres which fell sometimes during rains from the mountains in the gorge. By half past eight we were rolling down the valley in a brisk rain. The water was roaring and hissing on all sides of us, and it was not long before we were in an extremely fine and striking gorge, the walls of which were of fine-grained limestone, shattered into those large blocks which look so much like masonry. Here and there the steep sides receded, and a beautiful waterfall came tumbling out from some ravine behind. In one instance a large stream of water, clear as crystal, came bounding over the highest cliff within our view, and shooting like the Staubbach quite clear of the sides of the rocky precipice over which it leapt; it struck the rocks however once more before reaching the river, and from that point it was so like the beautiful lace waterfall we once saw in the gorge of gondo, that we all made the comparison in a breath. It was worth a day’s travel in the rain to see so magnificent a sight - one that probably could not be seen except in such weather. On one of these lime-stone ridges, which projected buttress-like into the river, on the very highest crest stood an old castle ruinous indeed, but still presenting striking features. On the opposite bank too, further down the stream was another, still more [illegible] dilapidated and half covered with dark ivy, [illegible] large masses of which were swaying in the wind. After leaving the gorge we came suddenly upon the olive which looked particularly flourishing - we also saw a few fig trees, and the vines were very abundant. The town of Les Pilles - said to have derived its name from the Greek, (a gate) and to have been colonized by the Phocians, consists of a single street, there being no space for more on the river margin. The valley narrows again here but does not compare in grandeur with what we saw above. Before entering the town of Nyons, more considerable and more respectable in appearance than we looked for, one sees a remarkably fine bridge of the fourteenth century leading to the opposite bank of the river. We kept to the right of this, and were soon sheltered in the Hôtel des Voyageurs, the best quarters we have had since we left Gap. A walk to the old bridge was all Mr M. & C. could do between the drenching showers in the way of exploration, though we arrived at Nyons before noon.

A violent wind all night and a comparatively clear sky this morning. Refreshed by the good table & good beds of the Hotel des Voyageurs, we fixed on eleven this morning to start for Orange - this giving time for the torrents to be pacified - To eyes accustomed to the olive the vine and the mulbery the drive between Nyons and Orange offers nothing of special interest. The surface of the country is undulating, the soil consists of pebbles and gravel with just enough earth to retain a little moisture, but even in this the olive and vine thrive well. Just beneath this superficial soil lies a bed of that fine building-stone used so much in Paris. It is so soft as to be very easily worked, and on exposure to the air hardens sufficiently to last for centuries. At the very entrance of Orange stands the old Roman triumphal arch - one of the most imposing I have ever seen. It is built of this same soft lime-stone, but portions of it are still in very tolerable preservation, and the inside of the arch is wonderfully beautiful in design but slightly injured by time. We looked at it carefully before going to our Hotel - de la Porte - and as soon as we had secured rooms there we drove to the old theatre. The front of this magnificent wall is certainly very impressive, and viewed from within the effect though different is hardly less striking. But the perfect hurricane which was blowing, and a tedious old guide nearly spoiled our pleasure. There is little else to see in Orange and if there had been I was decidedly too ruffled to look for it, and we came home to dinner. In the evening we learned to our great satisfaction that the Gasparins are actually here and in the paternal mansion only a few doors from our hotel.

Mr Marsh sent his card to the Gasparins this morning and the countess sent word she would be most happy to see him. He went, and found it was not Madame Agénor Gasparin, but the wife of an elder brother. She proved however a very charming woman - expressed many regrets that her husband was absent, having gone up the valley of the Ardèche to look after one of his brother Agénor’s estates which he feared had been flooded by the late rains. She also showed him a very fine miniature of the Count Agénor and other family portraits - also the library in which her distinguished father-in-law worked, little table at which he wrote, and the small bed-room adjoining in which he always slept, and where he died last summer. Every thing was in the plainest style possible, very comfortable but without the least show, and all old. Madame de Gasparin, as soon as she was told that I was habitually an invalid and less well than usual this morning, offered to come over and see me at once, which she did, bringing with her a son of seventeen. Her English is admirable, and her kindness in offering us hospitality and every service in her power was unbounded. When I told her that we felt so much indebted to the Count and Countess Agénor de Gasparin that we were unwilling to pass any members of the family without paying our respects to them she said - “Ah but in me you see the least - the very least - the most insignificant one of the whole. I wish so much that you and Mr Marsh would only see my brother and sister. The latter is so full of genius, is so good, - oh she is so charming! And then I am so sorry my husband is not at home - and he would have had so much pleasure in taking Mr Marsh with him up into the valley of the Ardèche since he is interested in our valleys.” She could not have regretted his losing this opportunity so much as we did, but at any rate even this little interview with her was most agreeable, and we now feel as if our personal relations were fairly commenced with a family in whom we feel the strongest interest. As soon as the Countess left we put on hats and shawls, and in a few minutes were on our way to Avignon. The rain had set in and the wind consequently somewhat abated, though it still blew very fresh. We found the country much more interesting than that through which we passed yesterday - apparently much more fertile and abounding in trees. We noticed particularly immense numbers of young cypresses planted very close and evidently intended to shelter exposed tracts from the wind. They were for the most part planted with a decided lean towards the south, an inclination which such winds as we have experienced would soon correct. Avignon looked very pretty as we approached it, and Borgo’s ignorance of the place gave us an opportunity of driving through every crooked lane through which a carriage could pass before we reached the Hôtel d’Europe. We considered this fortunate as we saw what we should probably not have seen otherwise - at any rate what we did not see when we were here before. I was surprised at finding the circumstances of our last visit here start up before me with such clearness as I came up the staircase of this old rambling hotel. f Fourteen years ago! It does not seem possible.

I was not able to go out this morning, and left the doing of Avignon to Mr Marsh and Carrie. The first trouvaille was a choice old enamel which we secured for Mary for her friends the Bulls. If we may believe the Jew-owner we snatched it from the hands of John Bull to transfer it to those of Harry. The treasure being sent safe to the hotel they went to Villeneuve to see the tomb of Pope Inocent VI and so on to all the plans the sage Murray recomends, and to some that he does not. For instance to the fine old bridge, or rather ruin of a bridge, four fine grand arches of which still remain. They returned with a portfolio of photographs, and flushed with the hurricane that still blows, but much pleased with their morning’s lionizing. We dined again at five and very well too, though we did not have the very fine Isabella grapes which had surprised and pleased us so much the evening before. We thought them much finer than any we had ever seen in America and even superior to those from our vines at Piòbesi.

We really did get off for Nismes [Nimes] at half past 7 this morning, though I was so ill during the night last night as not to rest myself nor allow Mr Marsh to do so; but with the daylight came fresh courage and I decided to go, though not without fear of being brought up suddenly by the way. We were to go by the Pont du Gard, and we had the same cold wind, the same bright sunshine, and the same whirlwinds of dust that we had fourteen years ago when we travelled this same road. The country does not differ much from that between Orange and Avignon, only that the olive-trees are far more abundant, and this year they are laden with a profusion of fruit such as I have never seen before either in Italy or in the East. The first was in different stages of progress on different trees; in some cases the berry was but little more than set, not larger than a small bean; in other it was already full grown, and dark purple, looking like a lucious plumb. Sometimes all the different stages were seen on the same tree. We saw again the Pont du Gard with even greater pleasure than the first time, for by this time the wind was blowing less violently, and we could study it more at our leisure. Nothing can be farther from correct than Murray’s account of it. He states the water passage to be about five feet in height and in width, whereas it is in fact over seven feet in height and nearly five in width. He also entirely overlooks the thick calcarious deposit with which the water has lined the whole channel acqueduct. But the most curious mistake in the Handbook on this subject is the statement that the reservoir in which it terminated has been lately discovered at Nismes, and that is sixteen feet broad and five feet deep! I shall spare myself the trouble of writing down more about the Pont du Gard as we have taken away excellent photographs which are better helps to the memory than any description by words. Soon after crossing the Pont I began to look about for the great farm house in which I passed a couple of hours fourteen years ago while our horses were resting, and where I saw the motherly old dame take out newly baked bread from an oven, beginning first with a short handled pêle, and with this she took out some ten or a dozen loaves, then she exchanged it for one with a longer handle, and some twenty more loaves were drawn out with this which was again exchanged for another with a still longer handle, and so on until I began to feel as if I were in some strange dream, or at the least bewitched. No child was ever more amazed by the tricks of a juggler than I was to see these hundred loaves of bread taken from the mouth of an oven that didn’t look larger than the old family one at home which could not have held fifteen. At last I begged the mistress for an explanation. She bade me look into the oven, and I was astonished to see what a cavern it was. She then told me that she baked for all her children even for the married ones who were living in the neighborhood &c. I have since learned that in the Vaudois valleys where fuel is very scarce they make their ovens so large as to contain three hundred loaves at once and many families only bake twice in the year. It was in this same farm-house near the Pont du Gard that Miss Paine tempted by a lucious looking basket of olives seized a large purple berry, and bit it with most pleasing anticipations. Her look of astonishment at the result of the experiment, and the old woman’s laughter as she stood with her hand on her hip I shall - never forget; but alas even here fourteen years bring changes. There were many many new houses and new vineyards, but I saw nothing of the old one, neither could Mr Marsh, who never forgets a locality, make out our old halting house. We arrived at Nimes about eleven, and here too had been great changes. The railway had caused the erection of many new public buildings near it, new houses are everywhere going up, and the town had an air of life and activity about it very different from its former self. After an hour’s rest we drove to the old Amphitheatre - one of the finest of Roman remains that I know - then to the beautiful Maison Carrée and so on, but here I must refer myself again to the excellent photographs we obtained of these buildings. Within the Maison Carrée there are many antique objects of interest, but one thing struck me as soon as I entered the door and I could scarcely withdraw my eyes from it - while I remained there. It is a picture of Oliver Cromwell looking at the corpse of Charles the First. The coffin rests on two chairs, Cromwell has raised the lid which he supports with his right hand while his left is on his sword-hilt, as if from habit. His dress is buff with trunk hoes, and a rather broad brimmed hat with a long bright red feather stuck carelessly in it, but it is the expression of the face of this tremendous man that makes the interest of the picture. I cannot describe it, nor can I ever forget it. - Mr Marsh and Carrie were not less moved by this picture than myself. This museum is well kept but it seems to be so not without some pains for at every few feet one reads: Ne crachez pas, in magnified capitals. It would seem that all bad habits are not confined to Americans. Among the visitors were two ladies, each with their suite of gentlemen. One of these ladies was cross-eyed, and so cross-featured everyway that I wondered at Mr Marsh’s courage when he offered her a lorgnette - a courtesy which she refused with such a grace as I should have expected. The other would have been tolerable had she not led about with her a shocking looking little puppy which was not only hairless, but looked as if it had been flayed. I sat in the carriage while Mr Marsh and Carrie went into the Public Garden to see the natural fountain which gushes out of the earth in such a volume, th and fills supplies the whole city with beautiful ornamental basins, with pools for washing &c. As we drove back to our hotel, I noticed a large quantity of mammoth onions some of them not less than 5 inches in diameter. On my exclamation of surprise Giachino said, “O, do you not know them, madam? They are Spanish onions, & so delicious baked! I have been begging Alex__ to get some for you ever since we have been with you, but he could never find any in the Turin market.”

Our inquiries last night having satisfied us that we should gain nothing by going to Lunel by rail & thence by carriage to Aigues-mortes, we decided go with our own carriage - not however without regrets that our limited days forced us to go on sunday or lose the sight of this curious town probably forever. The day proved very fine, though the violence of the wind during the night previous had made us almost shrink from the excursion. For the first 8 miles our road lay almost parallel with the Montpelier rail-way, and there were many populous lying on it & near it, the largest perhaps was Codognan. On the way-stones we observed many names of towns evidently of the same derivation as Aigues-mortes - such as Aigues-vives Aigues-margues, Aigouze, etc. the last of these I only made out by the help of the etymologist I was so fortunate as to have at my side - Aigues-douces. Seeing the name Uchaud I ventured to suggest timidly that this might be Eaux-chaudes or Aigues-chaudes but my oracle made no sign of assent. I did not press the point, yet my private conviction was that my etymology was not more forced than the Aigouze from Aigues-douces! - Soon after we struck off from the rail-road in a more southerly direction our attention was fixed by the strangest figures of trees imaginable. We had already at Nimes noticed the effect of the winds on the trees generally, but here it was something truly remarkable. The cypress was but seldom in the least affected and for the most part preserved its majesty & grace perfectly, but the poplars were sadly blown about and looked very sorry. The elms however had suffered most of all, and it is impossible to exaggerate their deformities, contortions & grimaces. Had they been living organisms with ‘limbs & features’ they could not have had a physiognomy more expressive. Sometimes a couple stood bowing to each other like two hideous dwarfs, sometimes a group of wretched old crones on the very verge of dissolution seemed holding a sorrowful gossip over the miseries of their past stormy lives, then a clump, with heads averted, arms a-kimbo and hair standing on end, seemed just ready to part in a frenzy of rage. In fact such ragged, beggarly, drunken-looking specimens of vegetable life I could not have conceived of, & I think the [illegible] caricatureist would find it would [worth] his while to pay a visit to Aigues-mortes - he would bring back treasures. Some six or eight miles from the old town (which is twenty miles from Nimes we came upon the marshes, and soon after had much standing water about us. The air too, plainly indicated the vicinity of the sea, & was very agreeable and refreshing. At this season there is no disagreeable effluvium from the marshes, and the danger of fever is past The towers and walls are visible for at least six miles, but it is only after one has passed the great gate on the causeway that one really sees the wonder of the place. We entered through the great gate by the Tour de Constance and hurried on to our hotel to get fresh horses so that we might make good use of the three hours necessary for resting our own. The shrill-voiced, fierce looking dame of a hostess did not seem inclined to give us an answer of peace when we asked for a carriage, as she evidently thought we should spend our time better in dining at her house. We compromised by ordering a breakfast, got a carriage, and drove first round the walls. Their fine construction and still more wonderful preservation amazed us. We knew it was the best existing specimen of a mediæval town, but our expectations were far more than realized. The walls are about thirty-five feet in height, and twelve in thickness, the reparations have been very insignificant, and still it is almost as perfect as on the day when it was finished. Its association with the name of St Louis must add greatly to its interest in the eyes of every one who has learned to admire that great and good king who was so many ages in advance of his own time. There are fifteen gates some of which are closed up, and the principal remaining one is that by the great tower. This tower the begun by St Louis himself, and finished by his son Philip the Bold, is ninety feet in height, without including the lantern which raises it to 125, and twenty two in thickness of wall. It has been the scene of much tragedy and in the wars between the Catholics and the Protestants was used by the former as a prison for the women and children whose husbands and fathers had been murdered. Protestant women are said to have lived here in confinement some of them for more than thirty years, but I must not attempt anything like a description of this strange city now containing some three or four thousand inhabitants for the most part poor & sickly - Murray on most points will serve to refresh my memory - After a circuit or two round the walls we drove by the side of the canal down to the sea. Even a portion of the old canal is still open. On our right & left & extending far into the marshes were vast heaps of salt piled up with great regularity of form and resembling the tents of an encamped army. Some of these were entirely uncovered, white and glistening in the blazing sunshine, others were closely thatched. We were told that a crust soon formed over those that were not protected, so hard as to require the use of steam power to break it, & that consequently the waste was little. Between these deposits of salt were small canals every where & we were surprised at the intense azure of the water in these [illegible] little shallow channels. I have never seen a more exquisite blue in the sea where [illegible] the depth is the greatest. There are bathing establishments at Grave - the sea-port village, but nothing of special interest. Before returning to our hotel to taste the bread & salt of peace with our landlady we went to see a most curious old chimney - description attached below - Breakfast finished, our time was more than up & we were notified that the carriage was waiting. Alexander’s voice below, however, proved plainly that something was going wrong in spite of our heroic efforts to avoid the horrors of war. A hot dispute was in progress between him & the landlady about her exorbitant charge for the breakfast. Two items especially enraged our Moses - 2 1/2 francs for three sardines (spoiled too) & 6 francs for a bottle of Lunel made but 3 leagues off & which even in Eng- or America would cost but 5. Alex. told her that he knew the value of both these articles, that a whole box of sardines containing 20, cost but 30 sous even in Italy where they were imported - that the wine had not cost her over 10 sous the bottle - that of course he was willing to pay her a reasonable profit etc etc. but she only lifted her shrill voice the louder & we had to inf interfere and direct the bill to be paid, or we might have a scene. Alex__ left her with the assurance that he would warn every family of travellers against her, & to Giacchino he declared that his respect for us alone prevented him from ‘taking her by the neck!’ We drove out through the old gate and looked back upon the dream-like town with a sigh that we should never look upon it or its like again. Nothing could be finer than the afternoon - as still as if we had not been in windy Provence, for we have not yet been in this region long enough to sympathize with the old woman at Villeneuve lès Avignon who told said to Carrie as the latter threw herself on the ground and held down her skirts in desperation: - “Quel vent délicieux! - ça donne de la vie!’ We were scarcely outside the wall when we found ourselves surrounded by swarms of dragon-flies. We have noticed more or less ever since we came into Provence, - but here at Aignes Mortes they filled the air like locusts, and the telegraph wires were covered by them for miles. Our drive back to Nimes was as pleasant as possible. We met everywhere groups of peasants, the girls in their pretty neat caps with bright flowers in the borders, the young men always walking by themselves and just in front of the girls. We had however one regret at our hearts - the not having time to devote one day to a visit to the Camargue, and to have witnessed a real ferrade on the very soil to which it owes it origin. Our carriage whirled by the amphitheatre, darker and more shadowy in the moon-light, and we reached our hotel about seven.

Mr Marsh and Carrie made an early visit to the amphitheatre and the Maison Carrée, and at nine we were on our way to Arles. The country between the two towns is not interesting; - a fine view of Nimes and the adjacent villages from a hill some five miles from the former place being the only thing that much struck us.* Arles is much less changed than Nimes since our former visit. The same old bridge of boats leads to it, the same narrow crooked streets, the same ups and downs and the same horrible pavement as when we were here before. They were expecting us at the Hôtel du Nord, having been telegraphed by our landlord of Nimes. While waiting here for a carriage to visit the amphitheatre &c Mr Marsh & I stepped across the street into an old curiosity-shop. The chief treasures here consisted of old battered china, now infinitely precious to connoisseurs but valueless to us from our ignorance. There were some interesting Roman antiques not easily transportable, a little piece of carved ebony which I greatly coveted, but which cost too much, some quaint old combs with glass ornaments, but we resisted temptation, and made our peace with the two very obliging provençal girls by bying buying a number of photographs. Only in one respect has Provence, so bepraised, so besung, answered to my dreams - the beauty of the women and children. The amphitheatre gave us more pleasure today than that of Nimes two days ago - not that it was quite equal to it, but we were not annoyed by the plague of wind, and saw everything quietly and at our leisure. Again I must refer elsewhere for description. The Museum contains some interesting Roman remains, in the way of sculpture, such as a very lovely female head supposed to be a portrait bust of the Empress Livia. It’s unfortunately greatly injured by the fracture of the nose, but by covering this fracture it is easy to see how very beautiful the whole must have been. Some old Roman lead pipes interested Mr Marsh a good deal. From the Museum we went to the St Trophime, an interesting old church which our photograph will keep fresh in our minds. But no photograph could do justice to a little scene I witnessed in the Church - if it could I would spare no effort to get one for some of my friends who so much admire the solemnity of Roman Catholic devotion. Two respectably dressed women entered the church soon after we did. They were talking and laughing merrily though not loudly, and did not for a moment suspend their party not even while crossing themselves and making the genuflexion before the alter. When they reached the seats with the kneeling benches they separated, and one kneeling at the first place, the other going two or three seats nearer the altar. The former commenced saying her prayers with a broad smile still on her face, and her eyes fixed full upon us. In a few seconds a third woman came in - a gossip of the last mentioned, for she went directly to her, shook her familiarly by the shoulder, said a few words to her in a very lively manner, then picked from her neck a small dark coloured specimen of natural history, rolled it between her fingers, both the actors giggling in the meantime. The last-comer then went a little forward and knelt down, but the friend to whom she had shown this little service had now finished her devotions, rose and went to her house justified! One of our servants - rather an emancipated Catholic - assisted at this scene as well as ourselves, and exclaimed very emphatically throwing up his hand - “Dio mio! Dio mio!” Leaving the church we went into the cloisters which we found very interesting. It is impossible to conceive how an age capable of producing such arches and such columns could be guilty of such monstrosities in the way of sculpture. There was the baptism of our Saviour by John the Baptist which, while it shocked could not fail to make the most serious person laugh. The figure of the Saviour I will not attempt to describe - but the St John wore a slouched hat, with a shaggy sheep-skin Over over his shoulders, and coming down to the ankle. His legs bore about the same proportion to his body as those of a duck, and the whole action was comic beyond words. I was assured by Mr Marsh and Carrie that there were still funnier things to be seen - such as the three kings all lying in the same bed, and waked by an angel with a candle in his hand who tells them where to find the new born king of the Jews - the entrance into Jerusalem - the temptation &c &c, but I had seen enough of the details, and contented myself with the general effect which was really very fine. From the church we drove, passing the old theatre, to the old cemetery of Arles - still called Aliscamps (Elisii Campi) the name by which it was known 1800 years ago. Dante mentions it in the Inferno IX, 112, also Ariosto alludes to it. Even in pagan times they buried here, and afterwards another portion of the ground was used by Christians for the same purpose. Hundreds and hundreds of stone sarcophagi lie scattered by the roadside - and acres about the old chapels are filled with them. The chapel of St Honorat has a very beautiful octagonal tower which a young artist sat in the churchyard sketching. We looked for photographs of this tower afterwards, but, though we found several taken from different points, none of them gave anything like a true idea of the object itself. This is the first time I have seen the photograph fail in giving a faithful idea of anything merely architectural. In the vault of the old chapel were several sarcophagi from which interesting inscriptions had been taken and removed to the Museum. Among these was [illegible] one in which lay a skeleton, and a copy of the inscription found on it was left with it. I had not time to copy it as I wished for it was very touching. The substance was that the occupant was a young girl, (Aelia of the House of Aelia), 17 years old, that she was about to be married when cruel Death snatched her from the arms of her mother who now congratulated the father that it was not his lot to feel this bitter sorrow, and that he had preceded the daughter whose society he could now enjoy. I suppose this sarcophagus to have been found in the christian part of the cemetery from the very distinct reference to another life, but there was nothing else to show this.

Last night we were condoling with each other on the necessity of leaving Arles without visiting Les Baux which Murray makes so tempting, and the old Abbey of Montmajeur, when a sudden inspiration came upon one of us and it was proposed to set off in a little carriage for Les Baux at an early hour this morning, explore its ruins, take a look at the Abbey on our way back, then drive at once to the railway-station and join our own carriage which in the mean time was to make its way with the servants & baggage to Aix. We also hoped to reached Aix in time to take another carriage and get a sight of the new acqueduct of Roquefavour before dark. To carry out this brilliant programme we rose at five this morning & set off on our escapade fasting. The road was badly cut up by teams from the quarries hundreds of which we met, and as we bribed our man of the whip to make good speed we were wofully shaken up by the time we reached the foot of the the limestone ridge crowned by fragments of the old walls & towers of Les Baux, We zigzaged slowly up the steep hill and found ourselves in the midst of a scene the like of which I had not thought could be found this side of Idumean Petra. In every respect it is certainly vastly inferior to the ancient City of the Rock - the excavations are are comparatively nothing, the extent of the ruins insignificant, but there is something to reall recall almost every feature of the former. Every where advantage had been taken of the rock to save the labour of the mason - now it seems to form a portion of a wall, now a chamber now a whole habitation. Even the same pigeonhole like excavations which have so much puzzled the antiquaries at Petra are here. And there is the same general air of desolation though less in degree. Had the white glaring rock been stained with those brilliant colors which make crumbling Petra as mournfully gay as a New Eng. autumn I could have fancied myself once more in some humble corner of that ‘place of tombs.’ We found however that nothing could be more mistaken than the idea we had taken from Murray. It is not less interesting than he makes it, but not in the least in the same way. For details, historic and other, of Les Baux see pamphlet found there written by Canonge. Old monument of kneeling knight in the church - date 14th century - inscription partly read backwards.

Our coachman told us we might get a cup of coffee from a kind woman inhabiting one of the few houses still occupied. There was a nominal café, but we had met the host of the establishment on our way up the hill, as he was en route for Arles. But he comforted us by telling us where to find the key to his premises. An old servant woman opened for us, and I sat down while Mr Marsh and Carrie went out to make discoveries. The old woman asked me several times if I would not like to go and see the peace, and it was not till she had repeated the question many times that I understood the peace meant pays. In the meantime the young woman who was to make the coffee came in and offered to take us to another house where we should see some old pictures - and the invitation was accepted as soon as Mr M. & C. returned. We were taken up a ruinous stair-case and into an unswept bedroom containing an unmade bed - to the latter I must do the justice to say that the linen was snowy white, the blankets unspotted - and here the walls were covered with old engravings and quaint old oil pictures. Among the former were some that would have greatly excited the cupidity of my husband in his collecting days, but the one that amused me most was a view of the city of Lyons, of I can’t say what date, but of the most primitive style of perspective. The oil pictures had evidently been sifted & resifted by visitors, but there was a Madonna & child of the Byzantine school that I should have liked, though by no means for its beauty. A second bed-room, with bed like the first was then shown us - the pictures were of the same general character but one of the frames was ornamented at each of the four corners with a large leaf - as beautiful specimen of old wood carving - At first I was bent on securing these at any rate, but prudence whispered a word in my ear - reminded me of the dimensions of our purse, the expense of transportation, the fact that we neither had nor were ever likely to have a home in which to display & enjoy them, that they were not objects likely to be much prized by friends as gifts - & I resisted temptation. Coffee was now served to us in small goblets, and proved very refreshing. Mr M. & C. went out on another ramble, and the woman who was acting as hostess placed a chair for me outside the door & we were soon exchanging confidences. Her little Maddelena, a beautiful child of two & a half years, was sent to the infant school - even here they had this blessing to poor mothers - and the baby of 6 weeks was brought from his cradle to be admired. Then the young mother told me that five weeks after her marriage her husband, a stone-cutter, had his arm and leg broken, that for six months he was confined to his bed, that then on a fête day the Dr allowed him to get up, and move about the room with the help of crutches, but in doing so he slipped, fell and rebroke the leg, and this was followed by another six months’ confinement. ’Oh, que j’ai pleuré au coin de cette cheminée là, mais c’est le bon Dieu qui ordonne tout, Maintenant, grâce à Lui mon mari se trouve bien, et quoique nous soyons pauvres nous avons l’espérance d’une autre view- sans cela il me semble ni riches ni pauvres pourraient supporter les malheurs de ce monde-ci.” I could have talked with her with pleasure much longer, but we had no more time - “Conservez-vous bien, chère Madame,” said the kind creature as I entered the carriage, and with a no less cordial adieu for the rest she turned towards her own door clasping her little son tightly in her arms. We drove rapidly back to the Abbey, hurried up the concierge who was eating his dinner, and went first to the cloisters. Something still remains of their former beauty, but most of the columns have been carried off - sold says our guide by the “bande noire” during the French revolution. Several members of the House of Anjou were laid to rest here, and among them the famous Marguerite, Queen of England who never knew rest till she was brought to the cloisters here. From the cloisters we passes into the church - very grand and lofty in its proportions, - one of the chapels was that of Blanche of Castile, stripped of every ornament except its beautifully ribbed arches. The crypt is large, but its only interest to me was its antiquity. The guide then proposed to take us to an old subterranean church, the work of Childebert for St Trophime in the 6th century - also to an old mortuary chapel, dedicated by Pons de Marignan, Bishop of Arles, in 1019 - but I was too tired to go further, and sat down in the room of the concierge while the others followed the guide. I amused myself during their absence by examining the odd pictures on the walls, the mutilated plasters, a ewer and basin of old china that would have been priceless in the eyes of a real china-hunter - and the library which contained the works of Plato, of Racine, Shakespeare &c and which I infer did not belong to the concierge. I had a visit too. An old woman of whom Mr Marsh had enquired where he should find the concierge, came to ask me the time of day! Having satisfied herself on this point she proceded to more personal questions - ’Est ce que Madame et Monsieur sont Anglais?” - and to my reply in the negative she said - “Ah, c’est ce que j’ai pensé! Quand Monsieur m’a parlé j’ai dit à moi-même - ça n’est pas un milord Anglais, il parle trop bien le françois” She was candid enough however to admit that she should have known by his accent that he was not from her own Department. - Mr M & C. now returned, told me what they had seen - the forged inscription forged by the monks, declaring declaring [sic] the chapel to have been built by Charles Martel in commemoration of his victory over the Saracens etc and then we dashed off for the station. Our wide awake coachman delivered us there in ample time, received his buono mano, and we were left to shift for ourselves - a thing Alex__ has almost made us incapable of. Scarcely were we seated in front of the ticket-office when husband exclaimed “there goes my package of photographs!” I looked up but was only in time to catch a glimpse of something that might or might not have been a portfolio half concealed under a man’s arm, the carrier hurrying past to the general luggage-room. I insisted that A. & G. could not have left it behind, as it was laid on the boxes, but Mr Marsh was absolute as to its identity and went off in pursuit. On his way he met the Commissionaire of our the Hotel where we had spent the night; who explained that the portfolio had been left behind & moreover Alex. had told him to say that he had forgotten to pay the carriage bill and that he begged him to do it. Here was a mystery. A. had been directed to pay the bill in the presence of the coachman, & if he had forgotten it for a moment why did he not pay it afterwards instead of sending a message to Mr Marsh by the very man to whom he should have given the money. After a moment’s reflection Mr M. paid the bill, but with many doubts - then came the confusion about the tickets etc, and on the whole we voted the rail-road a worse bore than ever. To crown our discontent we found we could not go directly to Aix but must wait two hours at Rognac - which would just deprive us of the chance of arriving in time to drive out to Roquefavour. All these things, taken fasting, would, I fear, have proved too much for our philosophy, had not a boy from the buffet come and offered us refreshments - We accepted eagerly, & the effect of [illegible] buns [illegible], grapes & lemonade was magical. We recollected that we might perhaps find a carriage at Rognac which would take us to Roquefavour and Aix as well, and we got into the railway carriage comforted. Soon after leaving Arles the rail way strikes upon the Crau, an immense tract of desert as bare as that of Arabia, and yet the only difference between the soil here and that of the Bouches du Rhône generally is scarcely perceptible to the eye. Both alike seem to be a mass of pebbles with the smallest proportion of earth intermixed. In the Crau however this mixture of pebbles and earth is consolidated together into a mass almost as hard as solid rock, and there being no ready means of irrigating it, it has been found impossible thus far so to break it up as to make it in any way capable of cultivation. Along the track of the railroad through the maritime pine has been planted and looks thriving. Leaving this desolate tract the road strikes some pretty ponds, and Rognac itself is situated on the banks of the largest. On arriving here we had to remove all hopes of a carriage and wait out our two hours patiently. But we were well rewarded, for the railway not only took us directly to Roquefavour, but the train stopped some minutes in full view of it, and a magnificent view it was, not inferior in my opinion to the world-renouned Pont du Gard itself. The photograph we have of it will be a good remembrancer, but by no means does it justice. Arrived at Aix we were astonished to find no servants to meet us, and hackmen and all others enquired of declared Murray’s Hôtel du Palais Royal to be a myth; And yet we had sent our servants there. While Mr Marsh was taking counsel of an Aixer I entered into a negotiation negociation with an omnibus conducter, who assured me that the hotel he represented was the one to which all travellers with servants always came - that he would take us there and if we did not find our carriage he would drive us to either or all of the other hotels. This proposal was accepted, and sure enough Borgo and Alick and Giacchino were all at the Hôtel des Princes. A. and G. had just returned from the station where they had been told that no one could come from Arles till half past seven. They both looked forlorn enough at first sight, but when they [illegible] saw that we were not angry and that we had the photographs their faces brightened. All the mistakes had grown out of the fact that no one was up at the Hotel at the hour they wished to start, and Borgo was already storming when the bill, hurriedly made out, was given to Alex., and the charge for carriage left out. A. had met the commissionaire a mile from the Hotel and as he had found the mistake on looking over the bill but did not know precisely what the charge for the carriage for the day before would be he had sent the message to Mr Marsh. All was right at last, but we shall have less confidence in future schemes of dividing our party.

We had little time for doing Aix as we were obliged to leave at eight, but Mr M. & C. went out as early as they could see - I contenting myself with looking the fountain which is adorned with a statue of the good Réné by David. The fountain altogether is very fine - even grandiose - [illegible] not from the quantity of water which seemed to me insufficient, but from the size of the basins & the great amount of sculpture - the huge lions etc. I was told there were two more fountains scarcely inferior to this but did not see them. The explorers returned with a history of what they had seen in the cathedral - the building itself, its pictures, the portrait of king Rénè & his second queen etc. but they had not time to go the library. This I should have liked to see myself chiefly for the manuscript letters of Mary Stuart for whom even Michelet cannot [illegible] cure me of my sympathy. But we were obliged for the second time to leave this once gayest of capitals, with all its romantic associations of tournaments & troubadours, after a most hasty survey. It contains now about 25000 inhabitants, the recent streets & buildings are fine but the ‘old town’ is, like all these old medieval dens, vile. It dates back to [illegible] one hundred years before the Christian era - a Roman colony sent to aid in defending the Phocæans settled at Marseilles. The mineral springs for which it has been famous from its beginning have undergone curious ebbs & flows interesting to students of such matters. I cannot say that we found the route particularly interesting between Aix and St Maximin, our mid-day halting place. The steep lofty lime-stone cliffs of Mont St Victoire on our left were striking, and had the attraction of being connected with the name of Marius and his bloody victory over the Cimbri. Murray tells us that the miserable town of Pourrières derives its name from Campi putridi applied to this dreadful battle-field. At St Maximin Mr Marsh was struck with the grand proportions of its church begun in the 13th, but finished in the 15th cent’y. The height of the nave is astonishing and the clustered columns without ornament pleased him very much. A few old gargoyles remain which seem to belong to the earliest days of the church, and Mr M. and C. were much amused by the effect produced on one of these which represented a fox by from the growth of some shrubbery in place of the mutilated tail of the animal. To be sure the tail was now a little too spreading, but it had so completely the air of being a part of the original design that it was quite deceptive. Another nondescript animal was finished off in a very similar way / In the town, as in all the villages we have passed this time in Provence, several wine-presses were standing, and Mr M. in his zeal for knowledge went to the men who were working them, entered into conversation with them and stood by while the pressing went on. He was told that the presses were brought into town on wheels from which they were afterwards removed. The grapes being first trodden very lightly are piled up, on the platform under the screw, in a cylindrical form, about three feet high and two in diameter, and then bound together by a flat straw-rope. The press is then applied by hand, afterwards by lever for about five minutes. The quantity of juice obtained is very variable, but in the case Mr M. saw today it was about 20 gallons. The grapes were then taken from the press, stirred with the hand, replaced and re-pressed, and five gallons more of juice was extracted. The wine-makers said that they dried the refuse and pressed it into cakes used afterwards as dressing for wheat and other crops but not applied to the vine. Of course the mode of making wine is very various in various countries, but this seems to be the most common in Provence. Among the little peculiarities in the way of church architecture noticed today were belfries which consisted of a mere rude iron frame-work. But there was so little to divert us that we were driven to laugh at the poor cantonierè who were mending the roads by spreading on the broken stone used for Macadamizing quantities of sand which they afterwards watered with a common garden watering-pot. We also noticed certain sheep even more gay than those we had seen near Orange. These last were adorned with odd-looking bunches or humps which at first glance I took to be some natural deformity, but a closer inspection showed that at shearing-time the shepherds had left here and there a patch of the old fleece unshorn, and now that the new growth was well advanced the effect was very odd - beautiful no doubt in the eyes of the shepherds. But here these excrescences were more numerous, sometimes three or four and on the same animal, and some were painted. Others had tufts of wool, died the brightest scarlet, tied skilfully into the ugly humps. How much of the child one sees among these poor classes in Europe whose intellects are fed only on milk or poison from the cradle to the grave. While we were laughing at the ‘country folks’ Mr Marsh told us of an advertisement he saw in Aix this morning of some theatrical performance, which announced that “la sèance s’ouvrira par ’un coup de foudre qui allumera deux cents bougies!” - and we had not recovered from our merriment when we drove into Brignolles [Brignoles].

We drove through the principal street of Pióbesi with its gazing and greeting occupants about 4 o’clock this yesterday afternoon & were welcomed by at the castle-door by our whole household including Carlo with his arm in a sling. He looks pale but is now quite free from fever and makes good use of his right hand as our dinner proved The poor fellow had the narrouest escape with his life, his face having been severely singed, his hat blown half a cross the garden, and fragments of the gun being hurled in every direction. The Dr says he will not lose even a finger. Every thing else has moved on prosperously. Our poor sick girl has been carried safely to the Hospital & is said to be im proving. Alex. also says that the mad Marchese promises the Casa d’Angennes for next thursday the 5th Nov. [illegible] We were so happy to be quietly at home once more and to have found no bad news in store for us. Our letters from home-friends were as cheerful as we could have looked for. But we found so much writing waiting for us. The sister of our poor hospital patient came to us quite overcome by her gratitude. “I have no words! I have no words!” said the good creature, “but my sister will get well! she will get well!” I have tried to save the family from disappointment by telling them we did not expect her to get entirely well, only to be made more comfortable.

While Mr Marsh was Turin to-day - Carrie having gone there also to make some combinations about her friend Miss Tottenham’s wedding. I received the syndic, Lord mayor as A. calls him, of Pióbesi. He came to welcome us back and brought an offering of choice fruits and flowers. While talking with him & thanking him I could help wishing our good N. E. farmers, artisans etc would add to their other many virtues this one of courtesy which gives such a charm to the common life of Italy. Mr Marsh came back with Dr Monnet who is now regarded with great admiration by the Piòbesans I was surprised to learn from the Dr. that he thinks so favourably of the case of our protegèe - he says she will be nearly if not quite cured - that he saw her eat nearly half a kilo of meat at once - that in fine she is “bien decidèe à de se guerie”. Our door was thronged with people trying to get an opportunity to speak to the Dr.

I went to Turin with Mr M. this morn. expressly to see Mme Sartiges who, [illegible] we heard, was to go with her husband & family to Paris before going to Rome. To my satisfaction I found she is not to leave for a week & I may hope to see her once more in the Casa d’Angennes if our perverse landlady does not play us some new trick. Mrs Sartiges is simple & unaffected in manner & I am truly sorry they are going away. It would be very pleasant to have two of my country women in the D. corps, and Mrs S. seems a true patriot & declares Mr S. is most friendly to the cause of our Gov. We left C. with the Tottenhams to help about the wedding prep. and returned at mid-day. The Baroness passed the evening with us, brought a beautiful bouquet and was as lovely as ever.

We We began to take up carpets and make ourselves uncomfortable today as the Dame d’Angennes still perseveres in saying the inventory may be taken tomorrow & that we may take possession at once. Alick sent especially to enquire for fear she might have changed her mind and that he might make a trip to Turin for nothing. A note was brought from the Baroness to Carrie today with the largest and most beautiful bouquet of flowers I have ever seen. It was sent from Genoa to the Baroness de Gautier whose fête it is today; and she was kind enough to transfer it to our C. who bears the same christian name. The bouquet was so large that we could not pass it through the door which freely admits our crinoline, and we were obliged to open another leaf!

A. returned from Turin tonight bringing back Carrie but in a high state of indignation against the Ghirardi who really seems determined to try our patience beyond human endurance. When he presented himself before her this morning she exclaimed - “Ma perchè siete venuto? Io non sono pronta! Mi bisogna la cucina ancor due giorni o di fini.” A. said “but Madam, I came at your orders to take the inventory. Even yesterday you told our messenger you would be quite ready.” “Ah, Dio mio, si! Ma non sono pronta, vi dico, E poi - e poi - ah, bisogna che io abbia fatto qualche gran peccato in questo mondo per essere cosi tormentata!” She then went on to rail about her workmen and I have no doubt she has had trouble enough with them - and they not less with her - and declared they had driven her mad and that she should start for Sinigalia tomorrow without fail. Qu’elle s’en aille vite! So here we are again. The witch wont hear of the inventory till Sunday and we must make the most of our bare brick floors in the meantime. We might be pardoned for wishing that the mason who chased this woman with his trowel the other day had laid her up long enough for us to get settled. The Baroness again spent the evening with us, and condoled us in our vexations. She says all Turin is talking about the way we have been treated from first to last & would wonder at our patience if it were not well known how next to impossible it is to get a house on any terms. Indeed we would renounce our bargain with M. Ghirardi at once if we could do anything else, but we cannot afford to pay 30,000 frs per annum. as it is said the Elliots do. By the way, the English papers are still quarrelling about the facts as to Sir James Hudson’s recall, but I think few persons doubt, not-withstanding Lord Russel’s solemn & most emphatic denial, that he was made to feel by the latter that his resignation was expected. The king is to leave for Naples on saturday. Mr Marsh would go if possible, but does not see how he can, Clay will go at any rate.

Gaetano brought from Turin this morning a letter from the Contino, saying that his mad mother had gone to Senigallia & had left him ‘entierement libre’ to do as he liked about the house. He tells us we may have it at once, so to-morrow we begin to send all boxes. What a relief! May the old proverd [proverb] about the 3 days hoar-frost fail this time - we should be sadly put out by a rain in the morning or worse yet by its overtaking our boxes on their way.

Two cart-loads of books etc were started for Turin this morning & A. & G. went down in our Piòbesi establishment to receive them at the Casa d’Angennes. They returned in the evening bringing as good a report as we could expect. Young Gherardi d’Angennes was very amiable and really seems to be trying to attone for his mother’s vexatious behaviour. The day has been a fine specimen of Indian summer weather. Some packing & more work for the wedding took up the whole day for C. & Myself.

It is so bright and sunny, so calm & so quiet here to-day that we shall feel doubly sad to exchange all to-morrow for the shade the noise and the hurry of the town. I thought when we left Pegli last spring that we could never hope for another period in our lives so quiet as we had enjoyed there - and our summer has been even more so. Now it seems to me as if we were about to enter the busy world to find little repose from it again until our life-work is ended - may this impression prove as mistaken a one as did the former.

After an early breakfast, & a hurried one at that we left the castle for Turin, servants, except Gaetano, staying behind to see to loading of last carts & shutting up. I left Mr M. at the Leg. & drove with C. towards the Tottenhams - met them on the way, found the wedding was actually to come off tomorrow - went back to Leg. & took up Mr M - all went together to Casa d’Angennes. And here we are again after fifteen months once more in our first Italian home. It is improved in many respects but much of the elegant furniture has been almost ruined, many a splendid trifle broken & nearly all the show knicknacery that has escaped destruction has been confiscated by the Gherardi & has disappeared. The young Count came to ask if all was right and we were glad to be able to y say, ‘yes’. We shall have much, very much to buy, but this was understood. As soon as Giachino came from P. I took her out with me to get a bridal present for Miss Tottenham - found a beautiful set of pale coral earrings & a brooch for sixty francs - took them, left notes with Madame Sartiges, returned, went over to Hotel Feder, all of us to dine, had tea at home & went to bed too tired to sleep.

All progress in getting settled was put a stop to by the wedding. Both Giachino & Gaetano were given over to the service of the bridesmaid. The carriage took her off at ten and brought her back at 1/2 past 1. Bride said to have looked very lovely - every thing to have gone right. The E. Legation was filled with spectators - friends of course, but uninvited. The bride & groom leave for Genoa to-night. After C’s return all hands were put to hard duty & we made advance in clearing out boxes etc but we shall be in confusion for a month. To-night when I went to bed Giachino told me of the joy my gift of blankets & other flannels had caused to poor Marianne’s mother & the gardener’s wife. She says she could hardly get away from them. I am really ashamed that the very little we could do, or rather did do, for the poor of Piòbesi, should have been so noised abroad. Had we practiced a little more self denial we might have really done something more effectual, but we indulged ourselves in our journeys & when the autumn came, the salary was gone - and yet they are so grateful for the little - may Heaven forgive us that it was no more!

Wardrobes, writing-desks, tables, chairs, pictures &c have been travelling about the house in the livliest way all the morning - some cases of collision, but no serious catastrophe. Mrs Sartiges came in to say goodbye - not less in a hurry than ourselves as she leaves town tomorrow morning. I am sorry, though it must be admitted the grief of the Turinese is not great at the departure of the count. There is a new story in circulation about his meanness which has gone as far as England and come back again in the E-journals - that he refused to pay for the injury done to a carriage by collision, and applied appealed to the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The Minister said he had nothing to do with it and referred him to the prefet. The prefet denied that it was his concern. Whether the count paid in the end or not does not appear. With the help of the Revue des Deux Mondes and Madame Collet’s L’Italie des Italiens we managed to get through with a long evening.

Today we made the usual discoveries on taking possession of a house that has been repaired - damp walls, smoking chimney or no chimney at all. Mr Marsh was completely driven out of his room, and the darkness of the day helped to dispirit us. Alas! what can all this gilding, all this painting, all these mirrors, all this satin, and all this embroidery do to compensate for the glorious sunshine and song of the open country. For my part, thankful as I am that we are here since we must come her, I already pine for the light of heaven we left behind us.

Another day of household discomfort. Even telegrams from America and European Congresses lose something of their interest at such a time. Those however who are not putting up stoves and putting down carpets are very full of the Emperour’s project, and even we find time to wonder a little what he will say to Sénor Romero’s reception at Washington. The weather is as glum without as within today.

This morning I sent for Madame Ghirardi’s cameriera to consult about the carpet. She came, and lo, “a woman with a peard” such as I never beheld before! She is about thirty with the moustache of a young man of twenty two, and a beard which a young man of twenty five would be proud of. Indeed it is no exaggeration to say that few men can boast a blacker or a thicker one. It was cut close & half concealed by a muffler, but could not be hid entirely. The girl is otherwise goodlooking, and her features are not masculine. This evening we began Paris en Amérique, and were greatly diverted.

Young Luigi Kossuth came in this morning while we were deep in Janet’s article on German materialism, in the August number of the Revue des Deux Mondes. We talked Poland and Hungary of course & had another laugh at the expense of poor old King Arpad alias, Chuy-chanel, who has lately sued the Duke of Modena for assuming one of his (Arpad’s) titles, Duke of Este. Among the other discoveries made by this claimant of the Hungarian throne is this - that the first wife of Julius Ceasar was a Kossuth, daughter of Lucius Kossucius, consul etc. We finished Janets article after our visiter left us, and liked it much. It is wonderful how superior the French are to the English in this species of writing.

As soon after breakfast as innumerable interruptions would permit us we drove out in search of carpets &c. - managed to spend a good deal of money in the course of an hour - though grudgingly - I returned with Mr Marsh, and, though feeling very unwell, took up C__ . and G__ . and proceeded to get Carrie’s winter outfit. At one of the shops they persisted in showing nothing but English goods, and when I asked for French fabrics they said - “But all our newest and best things are English - nobody buys anything but what is English - in short the whole nation is going Protestant.’ On our return I told Mr and Mrs Tottenham when they came in what I had heard, and though I do not suppose they took the shopman’s words literally, they were evidently pleased. They, at least, are not sorry for the late change in the English Embassy, though I do not know whether they take the side of Sir James or Lord Russell on the question between them. - The illness of the King of Denmark excites much anxiety among the friends of that country, as his death might have a very unfavorable effect on the Schleswig-Holstein dispute. Mr Elliot writes that the reception of our King at Naples was everything a King could desire, and I hope his visit there may do good. - Poor Miss Arbesser has just received news of the death of her father as she tells me in reply to my note sent with patterns from England for the Principe [Princess] Marguerite

The morning was consumed in superintending the matching of carpet patterns, selection of rugs, writing notes &c. Mr Artoni spent the evening with us. I told him that Mr Marsh had found a new word for a secularized priest - un prete spretato - he laughed and said ‘you know that Garibaldi says - ’bisogna snapoleonizzare l’ Italia.’ The death of the king of Denmark is announced today. Great sorrow and anxiety, even alarm, is said to prevail in Copenhagen. The late King was not well spoken of when he came to the throne and his domestic life would indicate something wrong, but he has succeeded in making himself a popular King. His uncle Frederic-Ferdinand, who succeeds him has still more doubtful rights in Schleswig-Holstein, and trouble is feared. The Congress, to judge from newspaper discussions, is not rising in public favour. Another subject of much debate and quarrelling is the Suez-canal which Lesseps declares will go on in spite of the opposition of the pasha stirred up as everybody believes him to be by English intrigues. England seems really in a fair way not only to be hated by the whole world as a power but to bring upon herself such a storm of indignation as will greatly affect her influence, if it does not injure her material prosperity.

Mr Clay made his appearance this morning after a ten days absence, and we were not a little surprised to find he had been to Caprera to see Garibaldi. He is much pleased with his visit, the day he spent with the general compensating fully for three days of grievous sea-sickness and two days among the miserable fishermen

of the Maddalena. He gives the same account of this most remarkable man on his sea-rock as other visitors have done. His rude fare and rough companions - his hospitality in offering all he has, - his wonderful symplicity of manner and character - his cheerfulness combined with a dignity that never forsakes him, - and above all that rather absence of all thought of himself which cannot fail to impress even his enemies. His companions are old fellow-soldiers in their red shirts; (, he himself wore a grey one when Mr Clay saw him with a kind of poncho over his shoulder) they cook their messes in turn, and coarse fare it is too - a huge platter of salt fish - a large dish of black beans - these seemed to be the principal delicacies. Boxes of nice dried fruits sent Garibaldi by distant friends arrived while Mr Clay was there but they all went into the common store-room. The hero cares for none of these things. Clay says he expressed great interest in the Mexican question, and believes in the day when we shall be in a position to dictate to the Emperour Napoléon the course he is to pursue with regard to that country. His sons are now both with him - the eldest Menotti - Mr Clay says is a noble fellow physically, and adored by the fishermen of Maddalena and the coast, whom he hugs and kisses in a most fraternal and Italian way. We were obliged to descend very abruptly from the region of Garibaldi to the atmosphere of an old Jewess who came to make a carpet, and who demanded fifteen francs for what work that any “faculized” Yankee dame would have undertaken to do in a day. I sent the witch off and Carrie sat down to do the work. Then followed carpenters &c all ready to come and do a little job three days hence, but nobody to be got now. For the whole of the rest of the day we were all through other, as the Pennsylvania Duchman says.

We make so little progress in settling our house in order that I am afraid even the end of the month will not find us quieted down for the winter. Driven from room to room now by a carpenter, now by a fumista, we wander about like troubled spirits, losing our time and trying not to lose our tempers. The abbé Baruffi called at the door this evening, left a very neat copy of th his Campo Santo di Torino for us with a promise to come in and pass the evening with us very soon. After tea we read the article in the Revue des Deux Mondes on the propossed Congress and then went on with Paris en Amérique.

The sister of our hospital patient brought us some fine fresh fish this morning and a huge basket of ‘red apples,’ evidently selected with great care. I enquired how her sister was - ‘Beng-beng,” said she clasping her hands with a delighted expression. She walks all about the hospital, and has already begun to make gloves. A greater miracle than this was never performed even by the famous Dr Nelson of Boston memory. We had no interruptions during the day except from workmen who still keep the house topsy-turvy. In the evening our always welcome friend the abbé spent a couple of hours with us and we had a great deal to say on both sides. Since we saw him he has been at Chambery at the scientific gathering, at Paris, at Frankfurt at the time of the congress of the German States, at Aix-le-Bain when Rattazzi and Rattazzi- Solmes-Bonaparte were there together, and he promises us some choice gossip when he comes in again. He is very far from ill natured, and never tells an unfavourable story except of those who have become public property & whose doings and sayings have something like historic interest. For the first time he admits that the affairs of the Suez-canal company are in a bad way, and lays the blame, as does everyone else, entirely on the English Meeting one day in Paris the secretary of the pasha of Egypt the young man said to him: “You are a friend of the President of the company and you could not do him a greater service than to pursuade him to renounce for the company their claim to the lands adjacent to the canal.” Soon after he met Mr Lesseps at a reception of Day Drouyn de Lhuys, and taking him into a window recess told him what the Bey had said. Upon this Lesseps declared in a loud and excited tone that they would never give up one inch. Drouyn de Luys Lluys [Lhuys] himself was standing near enough to hear this declaration, inquired into the cause of his excitement, and then took him quite apart and held a half-hour’s talk with him. The Abbé thinks the Emperour will not give up the question, and in this instance at least I wish he may have a triumph. England has no right to set herself against the convenience and advantage of the whole world. If she pushes matters too far France may say to Russia - ’Take Constantinople if you like provided you will let me do what I please with Egypt,’ and England would thus find herself left out in the cold. I asked the Abbé what he heard of the congress and what he heard said of it. “Oh, I suppose everybody believes it to be an expedient on the part of the Emperour to divert public attention from matters that more immediately concern France. We talked of Mondovi and our disappointment in not having fine weather when there, and our old friend told us many interesting things about old palaces in the neighborhood &c. and we settled to go there with him in the spring. We asked after the great old Plana and he tells us that his hearing is almost entirely gone, but he works on at his profound problems with as much zeal and success as when he was twenty years younger. There was too little time however to enquire after half our acquaintance. La Pomposa he says in very poor health, but we did not enter upon the fashionable world in general.

The new chargé from Brazil Monsieur de Britto paid us a first visit this morning. He seems a quiet little man of forms - very gentlemanly and very conventional. The Gajani’s came towards evening and we talked America. - In the evening we finished Paris en Amérique and clapped it vigorously at the close. I intend to get another copy to use for missionary purposes. I have see no book likely to do us more good.

We all went to church this morning, had a fair sermon from Mr Tottenham whose congregation for the most part was made up of diplomats actual or en inactivité. The Elliots the Hochschilds, the Solvyns, the Browns, Mr Clay. After service & a shaking of hands with our friends we drove to the Piazza d’armi before returning home to see the mountains in their winter glory. A few minutes after we returned we were surprised and pleased by a visit from dear old Plana. The Abbé had told us that he went no where now, being too deaf to hear anything, and suffering constantly from a painful affection of the mouth and throat. His first words after his welcome were: “Je vais mourir et je suis venu pour vous revoir encore une fors.” I protested by reminding him that he was still looked in excellent health, that he walked almost with the ease of a young man, and that he was still able to perform an amount of mental labour the thought of which would appal most of us. I could not make him hear however except now and then a single word, and Mr Marsh did not succeed better till he took out his trumpet and then we got on pretty well. He brought with him his last work on Polar heat to be sent to the Washington Observatory. Our great object was to make him talk of course and the mention of the proposed Congress roused him sufficiently. He poured out a torrent of epithets on the French Emperour. the mildest of which was fourbe and ended by b expressing the hope that he would finish worse than his uncle had done. As to Mexico he said - ‘Vous le chasserez, vous autres, vous le chasserez n’est-ce-pas?’ He then broke out into a sort of apostrophe to the Emperour seizing in his enthusiasm sometimes Mr Marsh’s

hand, sometimes mine, and finished by saying - ‘so I would speak to the Emperour if I could be but a member of that Congress.’ When he bid us goodbye he promised to come again if he lived long enough, and to Carrie he said “Adieu, Madamoiselle, je vous prends dans mes bras.” Poor old man. He evidently feels that his is a setting sun, and he is much gratified by marks of respect and admiration now rarer than once no doubt. - After the Baron left us we took up Samuel Vincent’s Méditations Religieuses which promises to be a book of great interest. Mr Clay and Mr Artoni dined with us.

C. and I lost nearly the whole day from having no room in which we could sit down with a fire. Our own cabinet was in the hands of a chimney-sweep and a fumista - the drawing room was being swept and garnished, the chimney in my own bedroom smoked too intolerably to allow of a fire - Carrie’s bedroom had a stove-pipe connected with our working cabinet and shared the confusion of the latter - Mr Marsh’s room is still so damp that there is little comfort in it, and besides carpenters or paperers or fumisti or tailors are perpetually coming and going there. Altogether it was an evil day and we went to bed with the mournful reflection that not a single room was yet in thorough order

I was driven out of my room earlier than usual by the announcement that a paperer wanted admission - went into Mr Marsh’s room and found the enemy there, begged that a fire might be put in the drawing-room, was told that Susanne was there washing the doors - that the fumista was expected every moment to finish his work in our waiting room &c &c. I resigned myself and sat down by Mr Marsh while the paperer went on with his operations. To soothe my nerves, made even more than ordinarily sensitive by a Dover’s powder last night, Mr Marsh read me the Saturday Review criticism on Longfellow’s last poems. Without having read these poems the mean-spiritedness weakness and ignorance of the critic are sufficiently apparent. One thing amused us particularly - The burthen of one of the songs; ‘Dead rides &c’ the writer says does not seem to have anything to do whatever with the rest of the poem, for aught he can see it might as well have been: Alive walks Mr Smith &c’! At the same time he gravely adds that no doubt it does mean something, and that Mr Longfellow ought to have explained it! He thinks Mr Longfellow should not have selected those old Norse subjects because he, (the Critic) does not know anything about them, & he also thinks that Mr L__. should not have made allusions to a mythology equally unknown to the learned men of England. He admits that Tennyson has made use of old legends, but then the scene of these was in the British Isles about which everybody knows everything - or ought to. - While Valerio from Genoa was telling us his various troubles with his countrymen and his government, his unsuccessful efforts to bring them up a little, the youngest eldest Kossuth came in. He was well posted up in affairs American and European, and like his brother is remarkably gifted. The Solvyns came later - The Abbé sent Carrie while we were at the dinner table Madame Gasparin’s last book from which we read in the evening with much admiration. Les Tristesses Humaines like all her other books is full of profound thought and lighted up by unmistakable flashes of the highest genius.

Our first news today was sad enough. The Pulszkys have lost their Gyula - a most promising boy of fifteen. We had not even heard of his illness. I hope this is not the fruit of the parents’ ambition - they are generally thought to press their children very hard in their studies. Judge Dyer and Dr Davisson of Chicago presented themselves about eleven and I had an hour’s talk with them before Mr Marsh came in. They are plain sensible men - outspoked christians, and hearty patriots - just such men as Dr Lefebvre met in his eight days in America. One of Judge Dyer’s replies in answer to some complaints of mine against the administration for want of energy diverted me immensely. “Madam.” said he, - “you may depend upon it, the Lord runs Lincoln! I have watched the course of events during this war and I am sure of it - the Lord runs Lincoln!” I am not certain but that he quoted the phrase as having been used first by some one else, but original or not it struck me as very droll. Among other things we learn from them was the presence of Mrs Lincoln on this side the water. If I had one of Johnathan Dream’s pills to dispose of she would find herself in the heart of Australia when she wakes tomorrow morning. They told an anecdote of her quite in accordance with those told by our friend Larned. Senator Foot being at the head of a committee of arrangements for the Inauguration called on Mrs Lincoln to inquire how many seats she would like reserved for herself and friends. “Sir” replied the amiable lady “I guess I’ve wit enough to find my way to the capitol without any help of yours!” Mr Foot was confounded of course, told the story to Trumball and asked what it could mean. “It means” said Trumball that she is a __ fool.” Mrs Monnet was our next visitor. We talked of new American books, abused the Emperour Napoleón, and were interrupted by the entrance of Madame de Rothan wife of the French Chargé. I was glad Mr Marsh happened to be present that he might see for himself whether there was occasion for the sudden admiration I felt for this last lady. - Handsome graceful, intelligent and simpathique as the phrase is, I felt at once as if I had known her half my life. She did not hesitate to express the warmest sympathy for the North in its struggle for the life of the Nation, knew Gasparin’s books on the subject, spoke of Madame Gasparin with the greatest admiration, and had enjoyed Paris en Amérique as much as we ourselves. I hardly need take the trouble to say after that she is a Protestant. As to our American writers I am afraid she is more familiar with them than I am. - Mrs Tottenham with her son and daughter came in as soon as Madame de Rothan left, and confirmed the favourable opinion I had formed of my visitor. Poor Mrs Tottenham was shocked and overcome to hear of young Pulszky’s death. Her own great grief is so fresh that she cannot fail to feel acutely for her friends who are suffering like herself. Mr Marsh found time to pay a few visits today and among others went to see Gorresio. He found him with a pile of Sanscrit manuscripts before him, beautifully written out on palm leaves, one of which he was copying. He was courteous enough to say that he had been reading Mr Marsh’s books lately with the greatest pleasure and profit, and then went into a more detailed and still more flattering criticism of them. Mr Marsh was satisfied however that it was Max Müller who had excited the learned librarian’s curiosity, and that but for him he would probably never have read them. This is certainly not strange when one considers how little time he can have for any thing out of his own immediate sphere of occupation.

Our domestic disorder increases rather than diminishes. The running to and fro, this morning, of carpenters, fumisti &c with all their arnese has completely upset the small quantity of brains left intact by a terrible cold. Poor husband was entirely dislodged and went out to make visits leaving a palsied old carpenter at work in his cabinet who had spent three hours in measuring the length of a single shelf and in sawing off the two ends. In the course of his visits he learned some curious facts with regard to Sir James Hudson and the late English Legation generally. An English gentleman very friendly to Sir James personally and recognizing some very important services rendered by him to Italy, declares that there were several causes united which occasioned his removal. That Lord Russell was glad to have an opportunity to provide for a connection he admits, but he says that the grossly immoral life led by Sir James and his suite had become so notorious as to be complained of by almost every respectable Englishman who visited Turin, that even the common city police had brought complaints against the Embassy. As to the services rendered Italy by Sir James this gentleman thinks they have been greatly exaggerated by letter writers who found their flattery paid well. He alluded to one circumstance, or rather one statement often repeated by the English journals with regard to the friendships existing between Sir James and Cavour - that Sir James was with the Minister almost constantly during his last illness and that he died in his arms. Mr Marsh’s informant says that Sir James himself told him that he never saw Cavour from the time they dined together on a fine fish the day before Cavour became seriously ill - and for the best of reasons, namely that he left town immediately after this dinner and returned only when it was too late. The English gentleman claims for Sir James the most manly political creed and practice, but says his private life was a most pernicious example to Italy, and a disgrace to England. Alas, alas, alas for appearances, and whom can one believe and trust in this so-called high life! We had Judge Dyer and Mr Davisson, the Gajanis, Clay and Artoni to dine with us by way of keeping the national Thanksgiving. It was very pleasant in spite of a little smoke and the absence of the mince-pies and pumpkin-pies. The two travellers had much to tell us of their own personal experiences and that of their friends in the dreadful scenes through which our country had passed since we left it. Dr Davisson told me he had, or had had, thirty three relatives in the Army, many of whom had already laid down their lives, and he gave me some most touching incidents connected with some of them. His account of a couple of hours spent in a Church filled with wounded soldiers from the rebel army was very moving. Judge Dyer has thirteen or fifteen nephews, I am not quite sure which, now in the army. He had many interesting things to tell us of what he had witnessed on the African coast, and he assured us that the hanging of Gordon had produced a shock among the Slave dealers that had extended as far as Timbuctoo, and that it had done more towards putting down the Slave trade than a dozen fleets could have done. With Gajani we talked over the Congress and the new coast treaty with France Mr Marsh expresses his astonishment to every Italian he meets at the obsequiousness of this government towards the Emperour. It is really sad to see it drifting completely under his guns. Everybody believes that the Congress is a great hum, but the Denmark question looks blacker every day. I had a nice talk with Mrs Gajani about old friends, and learned from her many interesting little items. Mr & Mrs Gajani go to the Waldensian Church and propose to become communicants in it. Mr Artoni had a very unpleasant story to tell us of an American calling himself Thompson who with his wife mother and very beautiful sister who had been living for two months in private lodgings in the via Dora Grossa, and had just left, leaving not only rent unpaid, but having actually borrowed money of his landlady. As people of this stamp very naturally do not come to the Legation we had heard nothing of them when the injured landlady brought in her complaint.

Mr Marsh diverted us not a little this morning by giving us the Tuscan word implying the attendant of a young lady when she goes out - Il suo decoro! The day is damp and foggy, and at half past two we can hardly no longer see. My detestation for town-life increases every day. The abbé Baruffi spent the evening with us, so that it did not seem long. He gives a bad account of the poor Marchesa Doria, for whom, by the way, our phoenix of a footman, Gaetano, has been to enquire in my name and without any order from me every day. I should have given him the order certainly, had he not had enough work to do for two since we came here.

Our ancient friend Dr Péters whom we first saw in Constantinople, afterwards in various parts of Europe and finally in America presented himself quite unexpectedly this morning. Mr Marsh asked him to dinner which dismayed me a little at first remembering what a bore he had been to me in other years. Plana took him in charge through the day as a brother-cipherer, and when dinner was over and we were discussing Bache and his clique over a cup of tea I could not help saying to myself “the man isn’t really so bad, after all!” He said some very good things about the new scientific association - and actually made us laugh heartily by his account of the Phil. adelphian who was struck with the brilliant idea that he might go to China by raising himself in a balloon to some little height in the air, and waiting there, till, in the natural order of things, China should be directly under him, at which à propos moment he would let himself down upon the celestial Empire! Péters declares that this philosopher actually tried to raise funds wherewith to try the experiment, but the benighted population of Philadelphia, who had not yet learned the great fact that the world turns around, refused to aid him!

England they say has definitely refused to have anything to do with the Emperour’s Congress, and thereupon the Paris papers rail, and the Italian journals join in the chorus. One does not know what to believe about the Empress’ letter to the Pope, but many persons think she has actually written in a tone that leads the pope to believe he may hope to be reinstated in all his lost provinces, that he may see the Bourbon once more in Naples, and the ex-dukes lording it over their former heritages. Are we really come to this, that such a woman as this Eugénie holds in her hands the destinies of peoples? I sat down when the rest had gone to Church looking for a precious quiet hour to myself, but had hardly thrown myself on the sofà in the Library when Mr Wheeler was announced - a good man and welcome, but alas!, how time flies. Among Mme Gasparin’s Tristesses Humaines is there a sadder one than this - never to be sure of a moment to dispose of at one’s will. We talked over the bad news from Burnside and other political matters, then those of a more personal nature, till Mr Marsh came in from Church, on which I retired to the drawing-room having learned from C. that the Baroness de Hochschild was coming in, Luigi Kossuth was announced almost immediately and after him the Hochschilds, then Rustem Bey. Speaking of the Congress Kossuth quoted what is said to have been the Emperor’s direction with regard to the sense in which an editorial was to be written for La France - “Si le congrès se fait c’est bien, si le congrès ne se fait pas, eh, bien, tant mieux!” Hochschild does not like to talk about the cloud in the North, hopes it won’t be much of a shower &.. Alluding to the subserviency of Italy to France at this time he said ‘I consider the Italians a nation of snobs, and if they go on in this way they will soon be unfit for the society of gentlemen.’ I found the bold Baron’s tone, though he has never been a partisan of the South, much more hopeful with regard to our affairs, and he dwelt energetically on the insanity of the rebels. Our great guns have produced a prodigious effect on public opinion in Europe. But my quests did not confine themselves to national topics. The poor Doria was spoken of as very ill. Thereupon Mme de Hochschild declared it was no wonder, with her late hours, her receptions in her bedroom where her visitors smoked ad libitum, and where neither fresh air or fresh water were ever admitted, the Marchesa being known to have a very doggish aversion to cold water. The Baroness however wound up her remarks by some apologetic suggestions in favour of the Marchesa, and by declaring that she was on the whole kind-hearted, and that she was almost the only Turinese lady who received strangers or showed them any civilities. “For my part” said her husband, “I don’t think she is a good woman, and I wish she never had received, and I’m glad she’s ill!” Of course the Baron said this by way of joke, but he has never made a secret of not liking her, and the antipathy has been reciprocal. Rustem Bey threw in his little word of dénigrement - The Marchese had a visitor at her country-seat last summer who was troublesome because he rang his bell so often for water. At last she lost her patience and complained to other friends - “I never use more than a glass of water to make my toilette, and I don’t see why he needs more”. It is so easy to see that this story has passed through several mouths that it needs no comment. It gave me almost a shudder as I listened to this talk when I recollected the homage I had seen paid to this lady by Rustem Bey and the like in the days when she was a social leader here, and which would be paid again if she were to recover and open her sala once more. Mr Wheeler dined and passed the evening with us - a rational human creature whose heart has not been annihilated to make room for a compass.

C. and I wrote notes and letters all the morning. Our only visitor was the Countess de Marini. Poor old thing! Old age and ill health have at last used up the little remnant of brains that the haute société had left her. I felt ashamed after she left that I had allowed the conversation to turn only on the prospects of the winter, as to balls, theatres parties etc., but I saw no chance of making myself understood even if I had tried to give it another direction. So melancholy an old age I have seldom seen in any class of society. Mr Wheeler dined with us and hurried off for Genoa. In the evening we were uninterrupted by visitors, read La Boulaye’s preface to his Liberté Religieuse, something from Mme de Gasparin, and finished the evening with the admirable criticism of Buckle in the January ’63 number of the Atlantic Monthly.

Before I could get through with a short morning’s work and finish dressing, Mr Tottenham and his son came in, and Mr Solvyns soon after. Young Tottenham whose officer-life has been for the most part in China, laments the course of his government in changing sides in the Chinese civil war, and taking the part as they now do, of the Emperor. He thinks the only chance of progress for China is the success of the revolutionary party. It is bad enough he admits, but under its rule, improvement would be possible. Mr Solvyns commends warmly Lord Russell’s part of the correspondence between the French and English governments on the subject of the Congress. The last letter is very good certainly, but the first does not strike me as very able. Why did he not confine himself simply to an expression of the confidence of his government in the good intentions of the Emperor and to the questions what were to be the subjects discussed, and how far were the decisions of the Congress to be binding, and by what means were they to be carried out? Instead of this, he in the first place argues against the Congress, betrays an evident intention to have nothing to do with it, and then puts these questions. It seems to me the other course would have been much simpler and given less occasion to the bitter outcry which the refusal has brought upon England from so many quarters. I did not however express this opinion to Mr Solvyns as with even so enlightened a man as he, it is wiser for a woman not to venture criticisms in such cases. The war prospect was of course discussed. Everybody hopes it may be avoided, nobody sees how. The Minister of Foreign Affairs told Mr Marsh yesterday that the United States had proposed to the Italian Government to buy the two frigates built for the latter by Webb, but that, while they were anxious for our success, and desirous to oblige us if possible, yet to give up these two frigates would be as serious an evil to them as if we were to send ‘twenty thousand men to the Dalmatian coast to aid Austria in its defence.’ He evidently meant to be understood that Dalmatia was the point to which the Italians were now looking. In the evening we had the Monnets, and enjoyed their visit very much. They are so intelligent and so much in earnest.

Mrs Tottenham and girls called this morning and took Carrie to the Vaudois fair, - like all the fairs here, the poorest of shams compared with ours, but the people give and they accomplish their ends. It snowed quite fast most of the day, always melting in the streets but resting on the roofs. Madame de Castro came in towards evening and sat half an hour. She is more than amiable, she is sensible and bright, and yet all we had to say to each other were friendly words of enquiry about health &c. then the a little talk about the young Queen of Portugal, her beau garçon of a husband, their domestic happiness, and the fêting tour on which they now are; After this followed a history of the Diplomatic ladies who had gone and come since we met, the number of court balls given last winter and the number that probably would be given this, then a goodbye with a resolution to talk English when we met again - and then the good lady went off to her carriage, sighing to herself I dare say - ‘now I must go somewhere else in all this miserable weather to say over the same things I have said here,’ while I sighed too to think that we two who might really have heartily loved each other under certain circumstances should probably never know any or care any more about each other than we now do though we may meet once a week for a twelve-month.

I have about resigned myself to consider the winter as thrown away as to any special purposes of my own. The chimney of my woking [working?] cabinet proves incorrigible, Mr Marsh is always [illegible] exposed to visitors, often business ones, and I am never safe in his study for a moment, the dining room is a thoroughfare to his apartments, as is the little boudoir, and I cannot be in the drawing room except when dressed, and besides it is so dark then that knitting-work is the only work possible. I grumbled the day away - in the evening we had a pleasant reading till nine o’clock, then talked with Miss Arbesser till eleven. With all her fine intellect and varied reading I see the wretched effects

of the European system of education on both her head and her heart. It is now about fifteen days since she heard of her father’s sudden death, and she now asks me for amusing books, “for,” says she, while the tear gathers in her eye “I cannot read grave books now; I really cannot, they make me too sad. I have been reading Lichtenbergs satires since this blow came upon me - they are really very funny!” - Ohimè! I must not forget to mention that poor little Mrs feeble-mind De Zeyck came here this morning to get some advice from husband about her estate. She brought a paper from her agent showing that since her mother’s death (about two months ago) that most consumate of rascals Daïnese has laid claim to Mrs De Zeyck’s portion of the inheritance and is likely to get it. The only advice to be given her was to hurry home as soon as possible, and there consult able counsel. I hope it is not already too late. Hitherto I have only judged of this woman from report - now I am satisfied that great mental weakness and an utterly untutored conscience, or rather a conscience overlaid by a thoughtless life and the thoughtless example of those about her, explain all the mysteries of her conduct. But she is very pitiable.

Miss Rosazza came with her governess to settle about the dancing lessons, then followed a visit from old Peter Browne, who was always stone dead mentally and has become partially so physically. He is a good old soul, but grows more and more disagreeable to me as I see more and more of his Irish impudence and his Irish blarney. The Countess de Rocci with her remaining pretty daughter followed Peter, or rather routed him to my great satisfaction. The good mother’s first words after being seated were - ‘J’ai marié une de mes filles Madame depuis que je vous ai vue’, and the joy and the triumph of her eye was delightful. I was glad to tell her that I knew all about it, and also that she was a nonna. As I looked at the beautiful girl at her side and remembered how necessary her poverty made matrimony, I could not help wishing for her sake that she had been born in a country where unmarried women if still dependent are at least less dependent. Later the Viscomtesse de Castro brought in and presented little Madame de Guerra the wife of the Portuguese secretary, a pretty little poupée with manners and phrases as artificial as one of Maelzel’s old autometa. She liked Turin because the society was aristocratic, and distinguished for high breeding, but Genoa she could not bear - it was a commercial town and vulgar in consequence. In the evening we finished Madame de Gasparin’s Tristesses Humaines - every page of which is replete with vigourous thought, and impressed with the seal of a splendid genius. Mr Clay gave us an hour of his good company, and with a little help from La Boulaye afterwards the evening passed quickly.

Mrs Monnet brought the Signorina Piria to see Carrie this morning. She is the daughter of a Neapolitan senator, an accomplished girl everyway, and a decided artist. The Abbé came in at tea-time, and told us rather an amusing story of the evening before - A man went up to a sentinel in front of the royal palace and said the King had sent him for the royal standard. This man was in his shirt-sleeves, and held a bust of the King under one arm. The sentinel appears to have been rather green at his duty, and to have entertained odd ideas of royal etiquette, for he surrendered the flag at once without any further authority. The fellow who had obtained it then marched down the via Dora Grossa and soon had a troop at his heels. When at last he came in front of one of the royal officers he was arrested by the officer on guard, found to be madman and sent to the manicomia, but the sentinel will probably receive a lesson, and the officer whose duty it was to have had the royal standard under lock and key at that hour will no doubt be dismissed the service; but the unfortunate flag was somehow to be taken back to its former position, and the question was how. The officer who took it refused to give it up on the first demand, declaring that military etiquette did not allow it to be taken back in that way, and the whole regement had to be mustered before it was surrendered, and then it was borne back in triumph mnsigue [consigue] en tête. The abbé had also just received a letter from the sister of Lesseps who, speaking of the Suez canal, writes “Fédérique a triomphé comme il le devait.” She explains no further. After the abbé left the Gajanis came and passed the evening with us. They are a really valuable addition to our social resources.

We had an electric shock this morning in the shape of a letter from brother Charles saying he should sail the week after its date, so that we may now look for him almost every day. Nothing could have astonished us more than his undertaking the voyage at this season, but we shall be too happy if he gets here safe and sound. Carrie and I went to Church, had a good sermon from Mr Tottenham, but a small congregation to listen to it. As kindly old Peter handed me into the carriage my conscience smote me for my sub-illnature to him Friday, and I remembered that he wasn’t to blame for his race or his birth-place. In the afternoon we read Vincent’s Méditations Religieuses, and had no visitors except Count Miniscalchi. He complimented Mr Marsh’s first book on English most warmly but has not yet read the second. We have promised to pay them a visit at their country-seat on Lago di Garda next summer. The telegram this evening brought us good news from America once more - a glorious victory of Grant over Bragg. May it not prove a mistake.

The whole morning, with the exception of a little time after breakfast given to the papers, was spent in letter-writing, and that too of letters of mere dull routine. Besides having a visit from the Gilettas we found a few minutes for German, and then it was three o’clock and dark. A certain Mr Grey, who professed to have important matters of concern to the government to talk over with Mr Marsh got fifty francs from him by way of helping him on to Paris. He states that he has been employed by Mr Adams in London and also by Mr Morse the consul, but Mr Marsh thinks him partially insane. In the evening a naturalized America, Italian born, came for a passport with his wife and child. He brought away from the battle of Bull Run a ball in his shoulder, returned to Italy with his American wife, and remained here till his severe wound was thoroughly healed. He now starts again for America with his handsome wife and beautiful child, and intends to go into the service of the government once more. He is an engineer by profession. Mr Artoni took tea with us. He does not think the civil marriage bill will be passed this year, but says the public opinion is going on rapidly in the right direction.

We had no visitors today except Francesco Kossuth and the Di Guerras, and I felt too unwell to see even them, though I did so.

Every fresh telegram makes General Grant’s victory over Bragg more and more important, and it really does seem as if the rebellion was nearly finished off. A few more energetic strokes

would do the work. The Marchesa Arconati on her visit this morning expressed the strongest interest in the triumph of our government, but she has evidently been biased by the English Times so far as to half believe its declarations that the reconstruction of the Union is impossible. She is a noble woman & an honour to any country. Miss Arbesser came with her. Mrs Solvyns came in to compare visiting-lists with me and to give me what information she could as to social changes in the last fifteen months. But night overtook us before we could make much progress in the terrible roll. I was much pleased to find that Mrs Solvyns could be otherwise than stiff and solemn. Piòbesan Molina spent the evening with - came with the double purpose, or rather triple one of paying his respects, selling his library to Mr Marsh, and renting his country-seat to him next summer. His pronounciation of French is very diverting. Under all circumstances he gives ch the sound of s - une charmante chanson is, with him une sarmante sanson

This is the quietest day we have had since we left Piòbesi - no visits at all. C__ paid a few among her young friends.

Mrs Tottenham came and gave me news of the Pulszkys, and a good many other little items that I was glad to know. In the evening the Abbé Baruffi brought in the great ruin - Plana - once more. The old man heard better than when I saw him last, and if he were not so impatient with his trumpet one might still talk with him very well, but his mind, which is still most wonderfully rapid, cannot wait to take an impression in this slow way, and he drops the trumpet and begins to talk of something else rather than wait for a reply to his own question. It is difficult to judge from these short interviews how far his intellect is unimpaired, but his memory at least seems perfect, for he recalls what was said the last time we met with the same ease as he repeats anecdotes of his intercourse with Murat at Naples. He says he has consulted Moleschott about his difficulty in the head and throat, and that he told him he must give him something that would either cure him or send him off in peace. Moleschott told him he could not cure him though he might relieve him somewhat. The old man complains most of all that he cannot sleep at night, “but I can work” he added, “I can work then - Dieu merci, je ne suis pas encore imbécile. The abbé is much disturbed at the position of Lesseps. If one were to judge from the government papers, the Emperour means to sacrifice him if not his canal as well, but no one can tell anything about this juggler. While he is pretending to blame the management of the company etc, he may at this moment be saying to the Pasha, ‘You will fulfil the engagements of your predecessor or abide the chance of war.’ - Baruffi”s Piedmontese translation of the Latin proverb “Qui capere potest capiat - Chi peu ciapé, ciap. By the way this libero-conservato priest is so delighted with Paris en Amérique that he says he shall buy a copy expressly to circulate among his acquaintance!

The Countess Menabrea and daughter were scarcely seated with us this morning when Deputato Levi was announced. For a moment I felt a real disappointment as I wished to have our first visitors by themselves, but it went off very well as the Countess managed with great tact to show neither political nor religious aversion to the opposition-Jew-deputy. We talked a little of spiritism after having first discussed the late American news, and I was really struck to find the Countess so well able to hold up the absurdity of these falsest of all pretenders. The ladies left first, and after a well-merited tribute to the beauty and grace of both mother and daughter, Levi said ‘and the Countess is thoroughly liberal too while Menabrea himself is a bit of a Jesuit.’ He then handed me a book he has just published - Democrazia e Papismo. - After this we talked of the late excitement in Parliament, the difficulties between Bixio and Crispi, the troubles in the southern provinces &c, and in general he sustained the government. He then told me of the rapid progress of the new religious society whose members are Known as the Pauliti, and states that Gen Menabrea has the name of being at the head of this second edition of Jesuitism. I do not believe a word of this. I then mentioned Madame Gasparin’s book: Corporation religieuse au sein du Protestantism and asked him if he knew it. What was my surprise to hear this Ebrew Jew, and supposed to be an infidel besides break out in the warmest expressions of admiration and respect towards this Genevan Calvinist. ‘Madame di Gasparin! qui ne la connais pas? C’est le plus noble coeur de l’Europe. C’est une intelligence des plus hautes.’

We had no visitors today except the English Minister Mr Elliot and the brothers Kossuth. The former has the air of a frank gentleman, but does not convey the idea of a very great man. The two latter amused us not a little by telling us that they had lately seen an account of an American surgeon who declared that by means of a certain bleaching process a negro might be transformed into a white man in about three weeks. and they wished to know if this were a fact. We laughed of course without moderation and then tried to explain to them that our people were in the habit in this way of experimenting upon the credulity of Europeans, when one of the young men asked with the most astonishing naïveté: “But why do they say such things if they are not true?,” and yet, these young men are highly cultivated, and very wide-awake. When we were by ourselves Mr Marsh read to me from Vincent.

No visits or other events of interest today. Mr Marsh was not well enough to go to Count Sclopis s in the evening with the abbé Baruffi as had been arranged.

Mr Marsh went at eleven Vegezzi-Ruscalla lecture on Wallachian literature, and had a long talk with him after the lecture was over. He is a man of rare learning. I shall try to go to the next lecture myself. About one o’clock Mr George W. Hodges & family came in. They are on their way to Rome, and I intrust to them the daguerreotype of our idolized Florence from which Mr Stillman promises to do what he can. Madame Giletta called to see about providing Mrs De Zeyck with a maid to go with her to America.

After the drawing-lesson this morning we had scarcely more than time to be ready for the dancing-master. Madame Giletta came with her daughter, the Gigliuccis and Miss Rosazza with their governesses. The young people did very well, and I hope the school will prove a success. Mr Meille paid us a visit in the course of the afternoon. Mrs Mayhew also came in before the girls were off, and Baron Plana’s daughter was announced while Mrs Mayhew was still with me. The latter has been much in India and I should think might prove rather an agreeable acquaintance. Plana’s daughter was less explosive than when I saw her last, but it was plain enough that only light ashes covered the fire. Miss Arbesser spent the evening with us and was full of interesting matter. She is delighted with Paris en Amérique and seems to be getting to have some idea that many of the stories Americans tell of themselves are not to be taken quite literally, but are rather intended to practice upon European credulity. She confessed that she took the account of the gas headdress au pied de la lettre, and that she heard gentlemen gravely asserting that such a thing about be altogether too dangerous!! Speaking with her about Ruscalla’s Lectures led her to say that she knew Wallachia somewhat, having spent three months there with her mother, when she was a child of thirteen. The description she gave of the strange mixture of refinement and barbarism to be witnessed there was odd enough, and she finished her tale by an account of the affair of the Princess Bibesca and her governess. She states that her mother, being a personal friend of the princess; (whom however she had known only in Vienna) procured a governess highly recommended by the French Ambassador, to go with her to Wallachia to take charge of her children. In less than a month after her arrival in the country the governess had the misfortune to give some offense to the princess, who scolded her with great severity, winding up her harangue with - “why do you not tremble before me?” “Your Highness,” said the governess, “I tremble before none but my God.” “We will see!”, cried the enraged princess, and instantly summoned two savages whom she directed to seize and whip the governess, which was done in her presence! The unfortunate woman managed to escape soon after, and took refuge with the English Consul, who caused a statement of the shameful deed to be published in most of the leading European journals. This princess is the mother of the Marquise Rasponi, a beautiful young woman much in Turin, though her home is at Ravenna, and who, common rumour says, beats her maids herself for want of serfs to do it for her; and yet before the world she is as gentle as a dove. Miss Arbesser agrees with Mrs Wyse, that there is still a lurking savage in the breast of every Sclavonian, however refined may be his exterior.

The De Zeycks were here early this morning for passports - Mrs De Zeyck having decided to go to America at once by way of Havre. Her husband goes with her to see her embarked. I supposed they had come to us for money to pay travelling expenses but they seemed to want for nothing. I pitied them both however profoundly when I saw how helpless they were, and how incapable they were of learning anything from experience. The poor mother is in delicate health, and take with her four children - twins of five years old, one of three, and another of fifteen months. She wished to take a nurse from here, but we advised her to get on if she could with Mr De Zeyck’s help as far as Havre, rather than take an entire stranger of whom the children would be afraid, who could consequently be of little use to her, and who would insist on having her return expenses paid as well. She assented at once to the propriety of this proposal, and said she knew from experience that a nurse would be of little use to her on such a journey. Still, I feel very anxious about the poor woman and the children too. The abbé helped away our long evening by his lively and intelligent conversation. Among other things he quoted the famous sonnet of Beretti in which he justifies a three years absence from church by declaring that he so hated Pilate for the odious part he took in the great Christian tragedy

“Che io non vado più a messa
Per non udir il suo nome nel credo.”

The trouble about the Suez Canal has roused a stronger anti-English feeling than I had supposed the good abbé was capable of - “Ces philantropes! ils font [illegible] rappelez l’étymologie française filoux en troupes. I should have mentioned that Dr Eaton of Hamilton College was here this morning, and was a good deal startled by hearing of the serious illness of President Lincoln, news which has disturbed us too not a little.

We had scarcely more than five hours of daylight today, and very dim daylight at that. Of course one can do nothing, with the constant interruptions we are subject too when the days are so short. Dr Eaton used up the latter part of the day for us, and before he left Prof. Capellini of Bologna (geologist) presented himself, fresh from a three month’s collecting tour in America. He brought letters from Agassiz. He is certainly of igneous origin himself, still in an state of white heat - his eyes flamed like stars when he talked of anything professional. He says his collection will be superiour to any in Europe except that of the Jardin des Plantes. He came to us from Prince Amadeo to whom he had taken care to say that as he had made his collection at his own private expense he intended to keep it to himself for the present, giving the public the benefit of it of course.

Mr Marsh went off early this morning with the other gentlemen of the Diplomatic Corps to hunt at Racconigi. His little practice of two or three times a year is quite bringing him up again as a marksman. He brought down four pheasants and two hares, and his attendant got seven pieces more, though I do not remember the proportion of hares and pheasants. In the division of the game however eight pieces only were sent to us, as so many of the gentlemen were unfortunate enough to bag nothing, and had to be provided for out of the common treasury. Mr Marsh took the measure of Mr Elliot today, and does not think him a giant. C. and I had no interruptions except visits from the Tottenhams and from the Solvyns

I put on my hat this morning for church though I felt little like making the effort after a second long night of pain. The carriage through some mistake came too late. Mr Marsh and Carrie walked, and I betook myself to my sofa. When C. returned I wrote a hurried letter to Lucy, and then Mr Marsh and I sat down to one of Vincent’s méditations - Let us eat and drink for tomorrow we die, was the subject, and a magnificent discourse it is - so is also the one that follows. I sent Carrie over to the Menabreas when we sat down to read, and before we had finished Madame Peruzzi came in - She returned from Florence only last night, but showed no signs of fatigue. I have never in my life seen such a feminine volcano. The marvel is, how any frame of flesh and blood can endure such wear and tear. I speak without exaggeration in saying that she has a chronic hoarseness from loud and incessant talking, but she never utters a weak or a malicious sentence. The great interests of Italy and the world at large are uppermost in her conversation, and her readiness to serve others in every way is admirable, but for two things she w her society would be invaluable to me here in Turin - the first she everybody makes so many demands upon her, and she takes so much upon herself to do, that she has little time to give to any one person - the second, that her stormy vivaciousness of manner oppresses and tires me. After she has left me I feel as I fancy a man does after a balloon ascension which has not turned out very successful, and was terminated by being alternately swept over the tree-tops by the hurricane, and bounding like an india-rubber ball against the earth’s surface.

Madame P__. gives glowing accounts of the progress of Naples, says that of the 14,000 beggars that used to swarm the streets, all are provided for in some way, and no more harass and distress the stranger who visits the city. There is plenty of work for all who will work, plenty of schools for young and old. She herself went over these schools with one of the inspectors. The railroads she thinks are advancing with wonderful rapidity, and this is proved by all their reports. She has also been in Rome, in Pisa, and Florence, and would have had a vast deal to tell me about many other things, had we not been most unfortunately interrupted by the Spanish minister Duro, and his secretary. She took her leave soon after they came in, with a lively promise to come back very soon. With the gentlemen I went through with the ordinary commonplaces, then talked a little of American affairs in answer to their questions, and assented to a little abuse of the English which they plainly enough intended as a sweet morsel for me; Duro, speaking of our army and navy said that what we had done was prodigieux, - colossale, and said, “I suppose you will keep them up now by the way of a rod over the heads of the rest of us!”

Nearly the whole day was used up in making out lists and distributing cards. Carrie and I left about seventy between two and five. The weather was most lovely, and yet damp from a fog which rose a few feet above the earth’s surface. The sun was almost scorching and from the effect of the moisture in the atmosphere the whole circle of the horizon was as rosy at three o’clock as is the western sky at a summer-sunset. We missed a few visitors by being out, - The Danish Minister among others, but I dare say this gentleman enjoyed more his talk in Danish with Mr Marsh than he would have done had we been present.

We went this morning, taking Ms Gajani, to the university, expecting to hear one of Ruscalla’s lectures. After waiting half an hour beyond the appointed time we were surprised and amused by the entrance of a procession formed of the “chiarissimi dottori dell’ Universita’ in their professional gowns and badges and headed by a quaint old beadle with his huge mace of office. They escorted a young man up to a sort of pulpit which he ascended in white kid gloves and white neckcloth. The professors then took their seats in a line in front of the pulpit with a long desk before them, on which were writing-materials, etc. We were then presented with a brochure which explained what was about to take place - the young gentleman in the pulpit was to be examined

for the degree of Dr. of Laws. The examination consisted in the discussion of certain propositions, or theses. Some one of the professors announced the proposition which he declared himself ready to defend against the young candidate who said what he could on the other side. The whole thing had evidently been carefully studied up by all parties beforehand. The young man had even his references to different sections of the Code all turned down at the right page, such references being his answers to the supposed extempore [illegible] arguments of his opponent - On the whole it was a decided farce, for us of the laity at least, and I think it was little better in the opinion of all present. I would have liked immensely however to have carried off a good photograph of that row of professors with the solemn beadle in front of them making a profound reverence now to one, now to another according as it was time for the one to end his speech and another to begin. Some of these professors were young spirited-looking fellows, but the larger proportion were passed middle age, and had the most comical phizes I have ever seen. We were glad to get out at the end of the hour, for our stock of gravity was by that time quite exhausted. We brought away the brochure for the diversion of some of our legal friends at home. After a drive around the Piazza, I returned in time to receive Mr Astengo, and settle with him about his daughter’s joining Carrie’s dancing-class. Later Mr Sella came in, and we were glad enough to have a nice long talk with this gifted and very intelligent man. He is to go down with Giorgini in a few days to pay a visit to Ricasoli, who wants them to witness the working of some of his newly-imported steam-machines, intended to be used for agricultural operations on the Maremme.

The dancers with mammas and nurses made their appearance before C- and I were really ready for them though we had been hurrying matters all the morning. The Countess Gigliuicci (Clara Novello) was among the first, and after an hours talk with her I decidedly came to the conclusion that she is an acquaintance worth cultivating. She is a little positive in her conversation, and does not feel her way as to the opinions of her interlocutor, but she is frank, and fearless, and clear-headed, and witty. She says she has been devoting herself for a year or two past chiefly to German literature, and the conclusion she has arrived at are not very flattering to the Teutons. She declares Göthe to be a colossal wind-beutel filled with vanity and humbug. I asked what she had read of Göthe and found she had made very unfortunate selections so far as English and American taste is concerned. I begged her to read some of his tragedies and certain other poems before she renounced him and denounced him altogether. She talked much of her sister Mrs Cowden Clark in whom she feels great pride. When Mr Astengo came in with his beautiful young daughter, the conversation of course became Italian, and she grew very sprightly. In talking of the ages of the girls who composed the class Madame Gigliucci spoke of her own early companions and of such as were of her own precise age. These last she declares fell several years behind her before she was thirty, that on arriving at that age she resolved to wait for the others to come up - ed io ci sto benissimo! I am told her voice has lost little or nothing of its early magic, and I hope we may hear us sing before the winter is over. The Countess Castagnetto came soon after the dancing began with her two daughters who wished to see Carrie. I was very sorry to be obliged to excuse her I am anxious to have her see all she can of the young people here, and the rank and manners of the Castagnets make them very instructive companions. The Countess herself is as simple and unassuming as a child - perhaps her pecuniary misfortunes have not been without influence. Dear, sweet Mme de Gautier came in as the Castagnets went out. It was a little odd, for we had just been speaking of her, and my guests had bestowed the warmest encomiums on her person, manners, and character. I never see her without increased admiration. The misfortune of the Miniscalchi’s in the loss of their lovely daughter - Teresina - seemed to have brought back her own great sorrow with overpowering freshness and she controlled herself with much difficulty in alluding to it. The Avezzanas followed her and by the time their visit was over the two hours’ dancing-lesson was at an end too. I must not forget to mention that I had had in the meantime another visiter, Baron Tecco, who has just come back from another visit to Constantinople, and with whom we talked about the East with great pleasure.

Gaetano went this morning to bear a torch in the funeral procession. The Count and Countess Miniscalchi with all their family and servants set out for Verona before the ceremony, and no persons followed the body to the church except servants of the royal household, of a few other families, and our own. All this seems so strange to us. It is true the remains of their daughter are to be sent to rest with their ancestors at Verona, but the arrangements at the funeral would have been precisely the same had she been buried in the cemetery here. In this country no relative or friend sees the lost one laid in the grave. All this is left to priests and monks, and nuns, and servants who carry aloft the family scutcheon. I felt too unwell to get up till noon today, but Carrie and I spent the morning in making out lists of visits to be paid, and we had scarcely finished when the carriage was declared ready, and Mr Marsh and C - set off to do the disagreeable work. I was scarcely stretched on my sofa in the drawing room when Peter Browne was shown in. I really dont know whether he is a canting old [illegible] hypocrite, or a brainless anglo-Irishman with all the stupid prejudices that belong to his class, with the addition of that proportion of malice towards our country which marks so many of them. He had not talked with me five minutes before I saw what was uppermost in his mind. The late good news from America had disappointed and vexed him, and he came expressly to tell me that we were making altogether too much of it and that neither he nor any other sensible man on this side the water dreamed there was anything left for us but inevitable separation and ultimate ruin as a nation. These were not his words, but they are fairly the substance of what he said. I told him that we, on the contrary, felt perfectly secure of a very different result, and no intelligent American, or intelligent and candid European on our side the water doubted for a moment but that in less than five years we should be in a condition to give law to the world if we thought it worth our while, and I said that not the least of our gains from this war war was the unmasking of our enemies - We talked for half an hour at least on American affairs, and at almost every sentence I was obliged to correct the old gentleman, and assure him of the falsehood of some statement he had quoted from the Times, until at last I told him I begged to be spared quotations from that journal on the subject of our affairs as it almost never uttered a syllable of truth with reference to it. This brought on a spirited defence of the Times on his part, and as a proof of its power and respectability in England he referred to its late controversy with Mr Cobden. I said, ‘I am sorry to hear you admit what I am afraid is too true, but what I have tried to disbelieve on the authority of some of your own most eminent men. I have been assured sometimes that this paper is not the true exponent of the British sense of honor and of justice. As to the controversy with Cobden, I must say, in justice to England, that there were men there, and great men too, who had dared to stigmatize it as it deserved. I then referred him to the Daily News, to the very able editorial articles on the controversy, to the indignant utterances from persons who did not fear to sign their names to their communications, and to extracts from other English journals severely condemning the course of the Times. Father Browne then broke out in no measured terms against Mr Cobden, declared he had not a particle of influence in England, but that if he had his reckless policy would through [throw] the Kingdom into anarchy. As to voters he declared that every man in England who was not a scoundrel or a fool (I quote his very words) had the right to vote. To this tirade I replied. “I have not the presumption to defend or condemn Mr Cobden’s statesmanship, of which you, as an Englishman, ought to be a better judge than I am, but excuse me Mr Browne, if I say you have yourself now said the most severe thing I have ever heard uttered with reference to England. According to your own statistics you have five or six millions of men in the British Kingdom of the proper age to vote. Out of these only one million have the legal right to do so - and you tell me that all the remainder are scoundrels or fools!” My antagonist winced so pitiably under this that I laughingly added, ’I sha’n’t take you literally Mr Browne, I can’t think so badly of England as that.’ We were interrupted here, perhaps fortunately by the entrance of Colonel and Mrs Mayhew - very nice people but a little priggish both. Amoriondo, chief judge of the courts here, and his pretty wife, a niece of the countess of Castagnet came in just after our tea, and made a short visit - Refined people, and interesting I dare say if we should ever get beyond the conventionalities of first acquaintance. Miss Arbesser came a little after nine and informed us that the Duchess had coolly appropriated our Paris en Amérique, - confiscated it for her own uses! This is an odd proceeding certainly, but I hope Majesty itself will get the reading of it by this means. Miss A__ says she has found another copy for us which she promises to send back speedily. I hope she will for the demand for it increases, and Mr Marsh means to get two copies more for circulation. Miss A__’s letters from Vienna she tells us are very desponding - the expectation of war in the Spring is so strong that their already disturbed finances are growing worse every day, and great anxiety and alarm prevails. She has just seen De Bunsen who admits that it is the probability of the withdrawal of the Prussian Legation from Turin in the Spring which has prevented Usudom from establishing himself here, and decided him to encamp temporarily at Pegli. The liberality which Miss Arbesser, as an Austrian, shows towards Italy is most creditable to her. “With all my heart” she says “I wish this noble people may get their United Italy, they have earned it so well and at such a heavy price.” Her dislike to the French in general and to the Emperor in particular is edifying. De Bunsen told her a story which professes to be one of the mischiefous Hume’s late tricks upon Napoleon. At a recent private séance of the Emperor and a few of his friends, the former felt something very like a violent kick in the back. “Who is that?” said the Emperor to Hume. “Louis Philippe, sire” was the prompt reply. This is rather too good to be true.

Our merry Christmas turned out rather sorry, than merry. We had been obliged to warn off our Christmas dinner-guests because I could not sit up long enough to be at the table, and this morning Mr Marsh found himself very feverish from a fresh cold, and Carrie was unable to lift up her head from her pillow from a disagreeable billious attack. We saw no visitors except the Kossuths whom Mr Marsh received by himself -

Carrie was able to be out again today, went to pay a visit to the Castagnets, and leave sundry cards for me. Unluckily she missed a visit from Miss Menabrea and Miss Bert both of whom came during her absence. After the Berts left I had an hour and a half’s visit from Count Gigliucci, a man of sense and spirit, but scarcely a match for his wife in these respects. We talked almost exclusively of Italian and American affairs. I asked him if we should have a European war in the Spring. “Temo, temo,” was his answer, “but for us it would be better if we could wait one more year.” During our evening reading occurred the word scuriosirsi which amused us all, and made Mr Marsh remember a passage he had been reading during the day from Guliani’s, Vivente Linguaggio della Toscana. page 200, second edition I quote it here, saying first that the occasion of the prayer referred to, was a plague of beetles which were devouring the young chestnuts. When the pious procession formed to exorcise if possible these little evil spirits had arrived at the appointed place on the mountains the priest. ‘fece una predica che tutti tremevamo; gridava con una voce più forte del tuono: “Mio Dio, mio Dio, Salvatemi il mio popolo, venga il gastigo addosso a me che sono il peccatore…mandate solo a me il vostro flagello. Se portate rispetto a questi sacri panni, ecco che io me ne spoglio”, e si levò la stola e il camice. Misericordia! allora la gente urlavano con dei pianti che spietravano i sassi…certe grida si sentivano rintronare per le selve che facevano pietà anco alle piante. O, che vuole? come s’era tornati a piè del monte il bruechi maledetti si staccavano dalle piante, facendo come de’ fili di seta. Cascarono tutti, brulicavano in terra, che parea un mondo di formiche Si vide subito che il Signore Benedetto ci aveva fatto la grazia. I castagni quell’anno si rivestirono più belli; e fecero una moltitudine di castagne, che non se ne videro mai tante. Negli anni dopo, non comparve più quel malanno. Creda, quel sacerdote ira proprio un vomo di Dio, faceva del bene assai.’

We none of us went to church this morning all having bad colds or otherwise half laid up. Mr Marsh read two or three of Vincent’s discourses and just at evening the Baroness Todros came in, Baron Poerio soon after. Mme Todros gave an amusing account of a dinner given by Mme Wyse Bonaparte in Paris at a time when her funds were low. Among other things the number of coffee-cups did not hold out, and coffee was served to some of the company in the lady’s emptied pomatum-jars! Baron Poerio looks feeble and worn. His hardships as a captive begin to tell very decidedly on him, though for the first few years after his release the joy of freedom kept him bouyant and hid, temporarily the ravages his imprisonment had made on his constitution. He congratulated us so warmly on our brightened prospects that one could not doubt that it came from his heart. He told us that the Marchesa Doria (who has been at death’s door within six weeks, and only within the last ten days has been rolled in an arm-chair from her bedroom to her drawingroom) was actually carried by her servants to her box at the Teatro Regio on Christmas night! ‘C’était l’evenement de la semaine’ said Poerio with a smile that the lady could not have interpreted as a compliment.

Mrs Tottenham brought Lucy early to spend the day, and, like a good kind friend as she is, gave me some very valuable hints about some persons we are likely to be thrown in with frequently this winter. With regard to one of the persons, the only one I have yet met, a single interview had brought me to precisely Mrs Tottenhams conclusions, and I had already put Mr Marsh and Carrie on their guard. / The Countess Ghirardi made me a most gracious visit, and brought the key of the box that we might hear the Opera tonight by passing through our own apartment into it as we used to do the first winter we were here. She gave me a long history of her vexations in trying to keep up the wealth and glory of the d’Angennes family, and would have talked till evening had not the Baron Visconti come in and cut her short. The old soldier, now in his 74th year is as erect and elastic as a ordinary man of 40. I had a long and pleasant talk with him, and after he left, had only time to go to the Library and tell Mr Marsh of the old gentleman’s visit when the Baroness Gautier was announced with her two nieces. The Baroness herself never looked or appeared more lovely, but she was suffering much from debility, especially from pain in her eyes - those most beautiful of eyes. The young

people talked English with each other, and the Gautiers did wonderfully well considering the long short time they have been taking lessons. While the Baroness was still with me Mme de Rothan came in, and I was glad to have two such women meet - a Protesta Protestant and a Catholic, it would be difficult to find a more favourable specimen of each religion. Perhaps Mme de Gautier might once have had more personal beauty, but Mme Rothan has the advantage of youth and a far better education. The former is remarkably intelligent, has read considerable, and keeps up with the great political interest of the day, the latter adds to a first rate education that perfect intellectual balance which ought always to be the result of it, but so often is not. Her familiarity with the great writers of our day on Theology, Biblical Criticism & metaphysics made me ashamed of my own shortcomings, but all she said was so free from every thing like a consciousness of knowing more than others, so evidently the result of a deep sense of the infinite importance of the great questions discussed, of long & patient thought, of an earnest and almost enthusiastic looking forward to a new era for Christianity, an era which was to show it forth more gloriously than ever before, that one forgot her in her subject as she forgot herself. I am indeed happy to have made such an acquaintance - oh how unlike the English & American idea of a French woman!

We had such a day of hurry & confusion, servants to be sent in so many directions &c &c. I shall be too thankful when these melancholy days are over. Surely our great Poet forgot Christmas & N. Years when he called our Autumn days ‘the saddest of the year’! The dear old Marchese d’Arconati was almost the only visitor with whom I could have sat quietly for an hour as I did to-day without showing my impatience. Madame Piria & daughter took her place when she left, but did not stay long enough to wear off the charm of their delightful Italian, so I held out. Mr M. & C. went to a party at the Mayhews in the evening & alas, brought home a fresh list of visits to be made.

The dancing-lesson was less well attended to day, the girls being tired out with last nights gaiety. Mad. Solvyns took C. to the Countess Calobriano’s Fair to make my apology & take my donation to the Countess Salmour. The Countess Gigliucci sat with me during the dancing, and we had a nice talk. My first favourable impression of her is rather confirmed than shaken. She professes to be a very stiff Catholic, but at the same time ridicules the idea of what her Church calls unity, declares it to be not only impossible but undesirable, and thanks God that there are all sorts of dissenters! In fact I am afraid her catholicism wold would hardly save her from the inquisition if that blessed institution were in full blast. I wish I had time to put down some of the many curious anecdotes she told me today, but at least I must record her testimony (, which is by no means the first one I have heard, and that from the best of sources) to the admirable character of the Hon. Mrs Norton, and her most unreserved conviction of her entire innocence of all the charges ever brought against her. She declares that this splendid woman was sacrificed by a brutal husband to the most vile and disgraceful of political intrigues. Dr Monnet came in in the evening and told us he had secured for our Piòbesan protégée another month at least in the hospital, that she is now well and wants nothing but a nutritious diet which she cannot have at home. The Dr is a jewel.

The Marquis Arconati and Melegari were among my afternoon visitors - both most hearty in their congratulations on the brightening prospects of our country. I have felt very ill all day and conclude now that Carrie is dressed for the Giletta party to take a Dover’s powder, or good Mme Rocci’s syrup, and go at once to bed.