'Next day we took stock of our acquaintances,--found that the Storys, on whom we had counted for company, were at Vallombrosa, though the two sons have a studio here--other friends are in sufficient number however--and last evening we began our visits by a very classical one--to the Countess Mocenigo, in her palace which Byron occupied: she is a charming widow since two years,--young, pretty and of the prettiest manners: she showed us all the rooms Byron had lived in,--and I wrote my name in her album _on_ the desk himself wrote the last canto of 'Ch. Harold' and 'Beppo' upon. There was a small party: we were taken and introduced by the Layards who are kind as ever, and I met old friends--Lord Aberdare, Charles Bowen, and others. While I write comes a deliciously fresh 'bouquet' from Mrs. Bronson, an American lady,--in short we shall find a week or two amusing enough; though--where are the pinewoods, mountains and torrents, and wonderful air? Venice is under a cloud,--dull and threatening,--though we were apprehensive of heat, arriving, as we did, ten days earlier than last year. . . .' The evening's programme was occasionally varied by a visit to one of the theatres. The plays given were chiefly in the Venetian dialect, and needed previous study for their enjoyment; but Mr. Browning assisted at one musical performance which strongly appealed to his historical and artistic sensibilities: that of the 'Barbiere' of Paisiello in the Rossini theatre and in the presence of Wagner, which took place in the autumn of 1880. Although the manner of his sojourn in the Italian city placed all the resources of resident life at his command, Mr. Browning never abjured the active habits of the English traveller. He daily walked with his sister, as he did in the mountains, for walking's sake, as well as for the delight of what his expeditions showed him; and the facilities which they supplied for this healthful pleasurable exercise were to his mind one of the great merits of his autumn residences in Italy. He explored Venice in all directions, and learned to know its many points of beauty and interest, as those cannot who believe it is only to be seen from a gondola; and when he had visited its every corner, he fell back on a favourite stroll along the Riva to the public garden and back again; never failing to leave the house at about the same hour of the day. Later still, when a friend's gondola was always at hand, and air and sunshine were the one thing needful, he would be carried to the Lido, and take a long stretch on its farther shore. The letter to Mrs. Fitz-Gerald, from which I have already quoted, concludes with the account of a tragic occurrence which took place at Saint-Pierre just before his departure, and in which Mr. Browning's intuitions had played a striking part.