than I ever saw him in his life, and we were forced three times
to call in a physician. The malady was not serious, it was just the
result of the climate, relaxation of the stomach, &c., but the end is
that he is looking a delicate, pale, little creature, he who was radiant
with all the roses and stars of infancy but two months ago. The
pleasantest days in Rome we have spent with the Kembles--the two
sisters--who are charming and excellent, both of them, in different
ways; and certainly they have given us some exquisite hours on the
Campagna, upon picnic excursions, they and certain of their friends--for
instance, M. Ampere, the member of the French Institute, who is witty
and agreeable; M. Gorze, the Austrian Minister, also an agreeable man;
and Mr. Lyons, the son of Sir Edmund, &c. The talk was almost too
brilliant for the sentiment of the scenery, but it harmonised entirely
with the mayonnaise and champagne. I should mention, too, Miss Hosmer
(but she is better than a talker), the young American sculptress, who is
a great pet of mine and of Robert's, and who emancipates the eccentric
life of a perfectly 'emancipated female' from all shadow of blame by the
purity of hers. She lives here all alone (at twenty-two); dines and
breakfasts at the _cafes_ precisely as a young man would; works from six
o'clock in the morning till night, as a great artist must, and this with
an absence of pretension and simplicity of manners which accord rather
with the childish dimples in her rosy cheeks than with her broad
forehead and high aims. The Archer Clives have been to Naples, but have
returned for a time. Mr. Lockhart, who went to England with the Duke of
Wellington (the same prepared to bury him on the road), writes to Mrs.
Sartoris that he has grown much better under the influence of the native
beef and beer. To do him justice he looked, when here, innocent of the
recollection even of either. I wonder if you have seen Mrs. Howe's
poems, lately out, called 'Passion Flowers.' They were sent to me by an
American friend but were intercepted _en route_, so that I have not set
eyes on them yet, but one or two persons, not particularly reliable as
critics, have praised them to me. She is the wife of Dr. Howe, the deaf
and dumb philanthropist, and herself neither deaf nor dumb (very much
the contrary) I understand--a handsome woman and brilliant in society. I
gossip on to you, dearest dear Miss Mitford, as if you were in gossiping
humour.