Then--such a view over the whole Lombard plain; not a site in view, or _approximate_ view at least, without its story. Autumn is now painting all the abundance of verdure,--figs, pomegranates, chestnuts, and vines, and I don't know what else,--all in a wonderful confusion,--and now glowing with all the colours of the rainbow. Some weeks back, the little town was glorified by the visit of a decent theatrical troop who played in a theatre _in_side the old palace of Queen Catharine Cornaro--utilized also as a prison in which I am informed are at present full five if not six malefactors guilty of stealing grapes, and the like enormities. Well, the troop played for a fortnight together exceedingly well--high tragedy and low comedy--and the stage-box which I occupied cost 16 francs. The theatre had been out of use for six years, for we are out of the way and only a baiting-place for a company pushing on to Venice. In fine, we shall stay here probably for a week or more,--and then proceed to Pen, at the Rezzonico; a month there, and then homewards! . . . I delight in finding that the beloved Husband and precious friend manages to do without the old yoke about his neck, and enjoys himself as never anybody had a better right to do. I continue to congratulate him on his emancipation and ourselves on a more frequent enjoyment of his company in consequence.* Give him my true love; take mine, dearest friend,--and my sister's love to you both goes with it. Ever affectionately yours Robert Browning. * Mr. Skirrow had just resigned his post of Master in Chancery. The cry of 'homewards!' now frequently recurs in his letters. We find it in one written a week later to Mr. G. M. Smith, otherwise very expressive of his latest condition of mind and feeling. Asolo, Veneto, Italia: Oct. 22, '89.