“Besides my gout I am in the midst of worries. The New Capital is playing the devil with us in increased cost of everything, and my landlord--the one honest man I used to think him in the Peninsula--has just written to apprise me that my rent is doubled. Of course I must go, but where to? that’s the question. I’d cut my lucky and make towards England, but that our friends at the Carlton say, ‘Hold on to Spezzia and we’ll give you something when we come in.’ Do you remember the German Duke who told his ragged followers they should all have shirts, for he was about to sow flax? I threw my sorrows into a doggerel epigram as I was in my bath this morning.-- “To such a pass have things now come, So high have prices risen, If Italy don’t go to Rome, Then--I must go to prison. “I find that Skene and I are old friends who have fought many a whist battle together. I wanted him to dine with me yesterday to meet Knatchbull and Labouchere, but he was lumbagoed and obliged to keep his bed: he is all right to-day, however. “I hope to have a few days (a week) in England this spring--that is, if I keep out of jail,--but I’ll let you know my plans when they are planned. “I have not written since--better I should not--for I go about saying to myself ‘D------ Morelli,’ so that my family begin to tremble for my sanity.” _To Mr John Blackwood._ “Spezzia, _April_ 6, 1865. “Your letter has just caught me here. I came down hurriedly to see if I couldn’t find a ‘location,’ for my Florentine landlord--actuated by those pure patriotic motives which see in the change of capital the greatness of Italy and the gain of Tuscany--has put 280 odd l. on my rent! As I have been stupid enough to spend some little money in improving my garden, &c. he is wise enough to calculate that I feel reluctant to leave where I have taken root. “These are small worries, but _they are_ worries in their way, and sometimes more than mere worries to a man like myself who takes a considerable time to settle down, and hates being disturbed afterwards. It never was a matter of surprise to me that story of the prisoner who, after twenty year’s confinement, refused to accept his liberty! And for this reason: if I had been a Papist I’d never have spent a farthing to get me out of Purgatory, for I know I’d have taken to the place after a while, and made myself a sort of life that would have been very endurable. “You will see from this that ‘Sir B.’ is not advancing. How can he, when I am badgered about from post to pillar? But once settled, you’ll see how I’ll work. It’s time I should say I had your cheque all right; and as to ‘Sir B.,’ it shall be all as you say.