We have been as far south as Amalfi and Pæstum. We have attended to the proper sight-seeing of Naples, Rome, Florence, and Venice, and have gained novelty by seeing also Orvieto, Cortona, and Siena, likewise Ravenna. We have escaped a disagreeable spring in England, but at the expense of being everywhere at least a fortnight too early for the various parts of Italy; and I suppose we shall be all the more sensible of this at the lakes and in crossing the Alps. But the weather has never been unfavorable, and we have enjoyed much and worked hard. A week near you in comparative rest will make an agreeable finale. Our companions have added much to the enjoyment, and we are sorry to part with them. They would, I know, send their best regards and remembrances, but at this moment they are both out; but Mrs. Gray, who is writing by my side, desires me to add her own to Madame De Candolle and yourself; and I am always most sincerely yours, ASA GRAY. TO J. D. HOOKER. LUGANO, May 8, 1881. ... Mrs. Gray was able to see little of Padua, beyond the Giotto frescoes and a look into San Antonio, the interior of which looked richer than ever. I kept moving; took a turn in the pleasant old Botanic Garden; found Saccardo;[118] saw two plants of Amorphophallus Rivieri in blossom; was taken up, by Saccardo’s aid, by Dr. Penzig[119] of Breslau, a gentlemanly young fellow, and of good promise, who took me in hand at the garden, university, etc. HÔTEL ST. ROMAIN, PARIS, May 22, 1881. If I write you a letter this evening, having nothing else to do till bedtime, mind, you, who have everything to do, are not bound to do more than to read it. Mrs. Gray and Lady Hooker seem to manage correspondence very well, and we may take it easy. But I want to tell you what a pleasant and restful week we had at Geneva. The De Candolles were delightful. He comes in from Vallon every day at ten, and stays till half past four, and I passed much of the time in the herbarium, where I had various old dropped stitches to take up, which I happily accomplished. As to sociabilities, De Candolle had made a dinner party for the very day we arrived (Friday), which I had barely time to get to. I met there Edouard Naville and his wife, the latter new to me, and a Pourtalès, cousin of our Count Pourtalès, who died last summer, and who, as a young man, followed Agassiz to the United States, and was a very important man to Alexander Agassiz. His death was severely felt by all of us. Naville, who is a capital Egyptologist, we knew in Egypt twelve years ago, where he was exploring Edfou and monographing one of its acres of wall sculpture and hieroglyphics, and we met him at De Candolle’s the next summer. We went out last week to his place at Marigny, on the north side of the lake, charmingly placed, with a full-length view of Mont Blanc in front; the lake in the foreground.