And we don't go to England till next summer, because we must see Rome next winter, and must lie _perdus_ in Italy meantime.

I have had a happy winter in Florence, recovered my lost advantages in point of health, been busy and tranquil, had plenty of books and talk, and seen my child grow rosier and prettier (said aside) every day.

Robert and I are talking of going up to the monasteries beyond Vallombrosa for a day or two, on mule-back through forests and mountains.

We have had an excursion to Prato (less difficult) already, and we keep various dreams in our heads to be acted out on occasion.

Our favorite friend here is a brother of Alfred Tennyson's, himself a poet, but most admirable to me for his simplicity and truth.