get too near that ugly 'sty of Epicurus' sometimes! Indeed you have
gratified me deeply. There was 'once on a time,' as is said in the fairy
tales, a word dropped by you in one of your books, which I picked up and
wore for a crown. Your words of goodwill are of great price to me
always, and one of my dear friend Miss Mitford's latest kindnesses to me
was copying out and sending to me a sentence from a letter of yours
which expressed a favorable feeling towards my writings. She knew
well--she who knew me--the value it would have for me, and the courage
it would give me for any future work.

With my husband's cordial regards,

I remain most truly yours,
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

Our American friends, who sent to Dresden in vain for your letter, are
here now, but will be in England soon on their way to America, with the
hope of trying fate again in another visit to you. Thank you! Also thank
you for your inquiry about my health. I have had a rather bad attack on
my chest (never very strong) through the weather having been colder than
usual here, but now I am very well again--for _me_.

* * * * *

_To Mrs. Martin_

Florence: April 20, 1855.

My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Having nine lives, as I say, I am alive again,
and prosperous--thanking you for wishing to know. People look at me and
laugh, because it's a clear case of bulbous root with me--let me pass
(being humble) for the onion. I was looking miserable in February, and
really could scarcely tumble across the room, and now I am up on my
perch again--nay, even out of my cage door. The weather is divine. One
feels in one's self why the trees are green. I go out, walk out, have
recovered flesh and fire--my very hair curls differently. '_Is I, I?_' I
say with the metaphysicians. There's something vital about this Florence
air, for, though much given to resurrection, I never made such a leap in
my life before after illness. Robert and I need to run as well as leap.
We have quantities of work to do, and small time to do it in. He is
four hours a day engaged in dictating to a friend of ours who
transcribes for him, and I am not even ready for transcription--have not
transcribed a line of my six or seven thousand. We go to England, or at
least to Paris, next month, but it can't be early. Oh, may we meet you!
Our little Penini is radiant, and altogether we are all in good spirits.
Which is a shame, you will say, considering the state of