1884 LETTERS FROM ITALY go 



the Lessons in Elementary Physiology, upon which he and 

 Dr. Foster had been at work during the autumn. But the 

 four months abroad were not productive of very great good ; 

 the weather was unpropitious for an invalid — " as usual, a 

 quite unusual season " — while his mind was oppressed by 

 the reports of his daughter's illness. Under these circum- 

 stances recovery was slow and travel comfortless ; all the 

 Englishman's love of home breaks out in his letter of April 

 8, when he set foot again on English soil. 



Hotel de Londres, Verona, Nov. 18, 1884. 

 Dearest Babs — 1. Why, indeed, do they ask for more? 

 Wait till they send a letter of explanation, and then say that I 

 am out of the country and not expected back for several years. 



2. I wholly decline to send in any name to Athenaeum. But 

 don't mention it. 



3. Society of Arts be bothered, also . 



4. Write to Science and Art Club to engage three of the 

 prettiest girls as partners for the evening. They will look very 

 nice as wallflowers. 



5. Penny dinners? declined with thanks. 



6. Ask the meeting of Herts N.H. Society to come here after 

 next Thursday, when we shall be in Bologna. 



Business first, my sweet girl secretary with the curly front ; 

 and now for private affairs, though as your mother is covering 

 reams with them, I can only mention a few of the more impor- 

 tant which she will forget. 



The first is that she has a habit of hiding my shirts so that 

 I am unable to find them when we go away, and the chamber- 

 maid comes rushing after us with the garment shamefully dis- 

 played. 



The second is that she will cover all the room with her 

 things, and I am obliged to establish a military frontier on the 

 table. 



The third is that she insists on my buying an Italian cloak. 

 So you will see your venerable pater equipped in this wise.* 

 Except in these two particulars, she behaves fairly well to me. 



In point of climate, so far, Italy has turned out a fraud. 

 We dare not face Venice, and Mr. Fenili will weep over my de- 

 fection; but that is better than that we should cough over his 

 satisfaction. 



* Sketch of a cloaked figure like a brigand of melodrama. 



