This will be my last letter from Italy, dear. I am sorry to think I am turning my back on this enchanting country. To-day has been perfect; everything, sky, sun, mountains, ugly yellow palaces, grim, frowning buildings, look beautiful--a perfect glow of light and colour. I can scarcely believe it is the same city we used to freeze in, when we passed through it often in old times going down to Rome. Heavens--how cold it was everywhere--a wind that seemed to come straight from the glaciers cutting one in two when there was a great square to be crossed, or whistling through the arcades when we wished to loiter a little and see the shops and curiosities. I can't remember if we stayed at this hotel--I don't think so, as it is very comfortable and that was by no means my recollection of the one we always went to on our way down so many years ago. The rooms are high--we have a nice apartment on the first floor, well furnished--quite modern. We got here yesterday quite early in the afternoon. It is only about 4 or 5 hours by train. We had a most festive "send-off" from Milan. I was well "bunched" as some of our compatriots would say. The padrone gave me a beautiful bouquet of roses when we came downstairs to the carriage, also a nice little basket of fruit which he thought might be acceptable on our journey. He had seen about our carriage--so that was all right--and we found the Director of the Museum, and the Greek friend at the station--also with a bouquet. All our bags and wraps were stowed away in the carriage, and the Director of the Museum (I have never known his name) had also put papers--some illustrated ones--on the seats. I felt rather like a bride starting on her wedding journey. The road wasn't very interesting. We had glimpses of the Alps occasionally, and the day was beautiful, making everything look picturesque and charming. It was rather a relief to get out of the rice fields and little canals. We stopped some little time at Novara--where we had a good cup of coffee. As we got near Turin everything looked very green. There seemed to be more trees and little woods than in the neighbourhood of Milan. The hotel porter was waiting for us at the station with a carriage--so we drove straight off, leaving Madame Hubert in charge of the porter, who spoke French perfectly, to follow with the trunks.