You cannot conceive the enchantment of this place. So much I suffered
here last January and February, I thought myself a little weaned; but,
returning, my heart swelled even to tears with the cry of the poet:--
"O, Rome, _my_ country, city of the soul!"
Those have not lived who have not seen Rome. Warned, however, by the
last winter, I dared not rent my lodgings for the year. I hope I am
acclimated. I have been through what is called the grape-cure, much
more charming, certainly, than the water-cure. At present I am very
well; but, alas! because I have gone to bed early, and done very
little. I do not know if I can maintain any labor. As to my life, I
think that it is not the will of Heaven it should terminate very
soon. I have had another strange escape. I had taken passage in the
diligence to come to Rome; two rivers were to be passed,--the Turano
and the Tiber,--but passed by good bridges, and a road excellent when
not broken unexpectedly by torrents from the mountains. The diligence
sets out between three and four in the morning, long before light.
The director sent me word that the Marchioness Crispoldi had taken for
herself and family a coach extraordinary, which would start two
hours later, and that I could have a place in that, if I liked; so I
accepted.
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