Mazzini is Loved Again

ductor," where he had "all the winds of heaven blowing on him, and through him;" the result a "dreadful cold." Dreadful it must have been when it confined him to the house. Meanwhile he had had two other declarations of love!! They begin to be absurd as the midges in Mr. Fleming's "right eye." "What! more of them?" "Ah yes! unhappily! they begin to- to what shall I say?

rain on me like sauterelles!" One was from a young lady in Genoa, who sent him a bracelet of her hair (the only feature he has seen of her); and begged "to be united to him - in plotting!" "That one was good, upon my honour." "And the other?" "Ah! from a woman here, married, thank God; though to a man fifty years more old-French, and sings the other played, decidedly my love of music has consequences!" "And how did she

set about it?" "Franchement; through a mutual friend; and then she sent me an invitation to supper; and I returned for answer that I was going to Oxford; where I still am, or will remain a long, long time!" Emancipation de la femme! we would say, it marches almost faster than intellect. And now, if there be not clatter enough for one night, I have a great many half-moons and stars to cut in paper before I go to bed. For what purpose? That is my secret. "And you wish that you could tell!"

Good-night. Schlaf Wohl.

J. C.

A Night Adventure

MY

VII

(To Mrs. Russell, Thornhill)

...

CHELSEA, November 28, 1856

Y DARLING, . . . Oh, such a fright I got last Friday morning ! Thursday night was my second night of something like human sleep. I had fallen asleep about three, and was still sleeping off and on between six and seven, when I was startled wide awake by a heavy fall in the room directly over mine (Mr. C.'s bedroom); I knew in the very act of waking, that it was no table or inanimate thing that made the sound, but a human body, Mr. C.'s of course the only human body there! What could I think but that he had got up ill, and fallen down in a fit? I threw myself out of bed, tore open my door and began to run upstairs. But my legs got paralysed: I leant against the wall and screamed. In answer to my scream, came Mr. C.'s voice, calling out quite jolly, "It's nothing, my Dear! Go back to your bed; it is a mistake: I will be there presently!" Back to bed I crept; and then if it had been in my constitution to take a fit of hysterics I should have taken it! As it was I lay and trembled and my teeth chattered, and when Mr. C. came and tried me with some water, I could no more swallow it than if I had taken hydrophobia. He had awoke too early, and got up to go down stairs and smoke,1 his way of invoking sleep. His room being quite dark, and thinking to put on his stockings and shoes before getting himself a light, he had gone to sit down on a chair at the bottom of his bed, where these articles are kept;

1 Carlyle was not permitted to smoke in his own bedroom.

Philosopher sits on Nothing

but mistaking the locality, he had sat down on nothing at all! and fell smack his whole length on the floor,not hurting himself in the least, for a wonder. This adventure has pretty well taken the conceit out of me on the score of courage, presence of mind, and all that! Mercy! what would have become of Dr. Russell if he had had a Wife who stood still and screamed, that time when he was so dangerously ill? . . .

Do be so good as give Mr. Dobbie1 an emphatic kiss for me; for if Mr. C. become unendurable with his eternal "Frederick," I intend running away with Mr. Dobbie! to the backwoods, or wherever he likes.. God bless you, my dear, kind true, woman. Give my love to your Husband. — Yours ever affectionately,

JANE CARLYLE

Have you got the new little dog? I have a whistle for him.

1 The Rev. Mr. Dobbie (Mrs. Russell's father), then in his 80th year.

“RICH EYES'

Edward FitzGerald rejoices in Frederic Tennyson's great cricket match

MY

BOULGE HALL, WOODBRIDGE, March 26, 1841

[Y DEAR THOMPSON,—I had a long letter from Morton the other day - he is still luxuriating at Venice. Also a letter from Frederic Tennyson, who has been in Sicily, etc., and is much distracted between enjoyment of those climates and annoyance from Fleas. These two men are to be at Rome together soon; so if anyone wants to go to Rome, now is a good time. I wish I was there.

F. Tennyson says that he and a party of Englishmen fought a cricket match with the crew of the Bellerophon on the Parthenopæan hills (query about the correctness I quote from memory), and sacked the sailors

of this
by 90 runs.

Is not this pleasant? - the notion of good English blood striving in worn-out Italy. I like that such men as Frederic should be abroad: so strong, haughty and passionate. They keep up the English character abroad. .

Antidotes to Carlyle

Have you read poor Carlyle's raving book about heroes? Of course you have or I would ask you to buy my copy. I don't like to live with it in the house. It smoulders. He ought to be laughed at a little. But it is pleasant to retire to the Tale of a Tub, Tristram Shandy, and Horace Walpole, after being tossed on his canvas waves. This is blasphemy. Dibdin Pitt of the Coburg could enact one of his heroes.

The Rev. Sydney Smith describes his adventures to his daughter

December 11, 1835

Y DEAREST CHILD, Few are the adventures

MY

of a Canon travelling gently over good roads to his benefice. In my way to Reading, I had, for my companion, the Mayor of Bristol when I preached that sermon in favour of the Catholics. He recognised me, and we did very well together. I was terribly afraid that he would stop at the same inn, and that I should have the delight of his society for the evening; but he (thank God!) stopped at the Crown, as a loyal man, and I, as a rude one, went on to the Bear. Civil waiters, wax candles, and off again the next morning, with my friend and Sir W. W a very shrewd, clever, coarse, entertaining man, with whom I skirmished à l'aimable all the way to Bath. At Bath, candles still more waxen, and waiters still more profound. Being, since my travels, very much gallicised in my character, I ordered a pint of claret; I found it incomparably the best wine I ever tasted; it disappeared with a rapidity which surprises me even at this distance of time. The next morning, in the coach by eight, with a handsome valetudinarian lady,