Rents are enormous; we pay only ten
dollars a month more than before, in consideration of the desire the old
landlady had to get us again. To anybody else the price would have been
20 more--60 in all--for which we are to pay 40. The Eckleys took _good
rooms_ and pay 1,000 (L210 or 15) for six months! One can't do _that_.
The best is that they have thoroughly cleaned and painted the place, and
everything is very satisfactorily arranged. We take the apartment for
four months, meaning to be at liberty to go to Naples if we like. We
have no fire this morning while I write, but it is before breakfast and
Ba may like the sight of one, tho' I rather think she will not. Rome
looks very well, and I hope we shall have a happier time of it than
before. Many friends are here and everybody is very kind. The Eckleys
were extravagantly good to us, something beyond conception almost. We
have seen Miss Cushman, Hatty,[60] Leighton, Cartwright, the Storys,
Page and his new (third) wife, Gibson, beside the Brackens and Mrs.
Mackenzie; and there are others I shall see to-day. Ferdinando was sent
on by sea with the luggage, and met us at the gate. It has been an
expensive business altogether, but I think we shall not regret it. I
daresay you have mild weather at Paris also. These premature beginnings
of cold break down and leave the rest of the year the warmer, if not the
better for them. Dearest Sis, write and tell me all the news of your two
selves. Do you hear anything about Reuben's leaving London? Anything of
Lady Elgin? How is Madame Milsand? I will send you the last 'Ath.' I
have received, but break off here rather abruptly, in order to let Ba
write. Good-bye. God bless you both. Kindest love to Milsand.

Yours ever affectionately
R.B.

* * * * *

_E.B. Browning to Miss Browning_

My dearest Sarianna,--I don't know whether this letter from Rome will
surprise you, but we have done it at last. Our journey was most
prosperous, the wonderful inrush of winter which buried all Italy in
snow, and for some days rendered the possibility of any change of
quarters so more than doubtful (I myself gave it up for days), having
given way to an inrush of summer as wonderful. The change was so
pleasant that I bore with perfect equanimity the lamentations of certain
English acquaintances of ours in Florence, who declared it was the most
frightful and dangerous climate that could be, that now one was frozen
to dea