a,--I must not wait, lest I miss you in your transit to
Naples; thank you for your dear letter, then. The weather has burst
suddenly into summer (though it rains a little this morning), and I have
been let out of prison to drive in the Cascine and to Bellosguardo.
Beautiful, beautiful Florence. How beautiful at this time of year! The
trees stand in their 'green mist' as if in a trance of joy. Oh, I do
hope nothing will drive us out of our Paradise this summer, for I seem
to hate the North more 'unnaturally' than ever.

Mrs. Stowe has just arrived, and called here yesterday and this morning,
when Robert took her to see the Salvators at the end of our street. I
like her better than I thought I should--that is, I find more refinement
in her voice and manner--no rampant Americanisms. Very simple and
gentle, with a sweet voice; undesirous of shining or _poser_-ing, so it
seems to me. Never did lioness roar more softly (that is quite certain);
and the temptations of a sudden enormous popularity should be estimated,
in doing her full justice. She is nice-looking, too; and there's
something strong and copious and characteristic in her dusky wavy hair.
For the rest, the brow has not very large capacity; and the mouth wants
something both in frankness and sensitiveness, I should say. But what
can one see in a morning visit? I must wait for another opportunity.
She spends to-morrow evening with us, and talks of remaining in Florence
till the end of next week--so I shall see and hear more. Her books are
not so much to me, I confess, as the fact is, that she above all women
(yes, and men of the age) has moved the world--and _for good_.

I hear that Mrs. Gaskell is coming, whom I am sure to like and love. I
know _that_ by her letters, though I was stupid or idle enough to let
our correspondence go by; and by her books, which I earnestly admire.
How anxious I am to see the life of Charlotte Bronte! But we shall have
to wait for it here.

Dearest friend, you don't mention Madme de Goethe, but I do hope you
will have her with you before long. The good to you will be immense, and
after friendship (and reason) the sun and moon and earth of Italy will
work for you in their places. May God grant to us all that you may be
soon strong enough to throw every burden behind you! The griefs that are
incurable are those which have our own sins festering in them....

On April 6 we had tea out of doors, on the terrace of our friend Miss
Blagden in