I saw them only when
parched with sun and covered with dust. In the spring they must be
very beautiful.
* * * * *
_December_, 1848.--I felt much what you wrote, "_if it were well with
my heart_." How seldom it is that a mortal is permitted to enjoy a
paradisaical scene, unhaunted by some painful vision from the past
or the future! With me, too, dark clouds of care and sorrow have
sometimes blotted out the sunshine. I have not lost from my side an
only sister, but have been severed from some visions still so dear,
they looked almost like hopes. The future seems too difficult for me.
I have been as happy as I could, and I feel that this summer, as last,
had I been with my country folks, the picture of Italy would not have
been so lively to me. Now I have been quite off the beaten track of
travel, have seen, thought, spoken, dreamed only what is Italian. I
have learned much, received many strong and clear impressions. While
among the mountains, I was for a good while quite alone, except for
occasional chat with the contadine, who wanted to know if Pius IX. was
not _un gran carbonaro!_--a reputation which he surely ought to have
forfeited by this time.
Pages:
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343