similar event. Such are the usual, the
frightful inconsistencies of mankind.

From my windows I see the Barberini palace; in its chambers are the
pictures of the Cenci, and the Galatea, so beautifully described by
Goethe; in the gardens are the remains of the tomb of Servius Tullius.

Yesterday as I went forth I saw the house where Keats lived in Rome,
and where he died; I saw the Casino of Raphael. Returning, I passed
the villa where Goethe lived when in Rome: afterwards, the houses of
Claude and Poussin.

Ah what human companionship here! how everything speaks! I live myself
in the apartment described in Andersen's "Improvvisatore," which get
you, and read a scene of the childhood of Antonio. I have the room, I
suppose, indicated as being occupied by the Danish sculptor.

* * * * *

TO THE SAME.

Rome, March 17, 1849.

I take occasion to enclose this seal, as a little birthday present,
for I think you will be twenty-five in May. I have used it a great
deal; the design is graceful and expressive,--the stone of some little
value.

I live with the severest economy consistent with my health. I could
not live for less anywhere. I have renounced much, have suffered more.
I trust I shall not find it impossible to accomplish, at least one
of my designs. This is, to see the end of the political struggle
in Italy, and write its history. I think it will come to its crisis
within, this year. But to complete my work as I have begun, I must
watch it to the end.

This work, if I can accomplish it, will be a worthy chapter in the
history of the world; and if written with the spirit which breathes
through me, and with sufficient energy and calmness to execute well
the details, would be what the motto on my ring indicates,--"_a
possession for ever, for man_."

It ought to be profitable to me pecuniarily; but in these respects
Fate runs so uniformly counter to me, that I dare not expect ever to
be free from perplexity and uncongenial labor. Still, these will never
more be so hard to me, if I shall have done something good, which may
survive my troubled existence. Yet it would be like the rest, if by
ill health, want of means, or being driven prematurely from the field
of observation, this hope also should be blighted. I am prepared to
have it so. Only my efforts tend to the accomplishment of my object;
and should they not be baffled, you will not see me before the summer
of 1850.

Meantime