We have seen from the letter to Abbott at the end of January that a somewhat lengthened tour had been planned out. On March the 21st Faraday's journal says, "We left Naples at five o'clock." From that time the return was rapid. At Rome there was some delay owing to the lack of post-horses; the French troops under Murat were advancing, and everybody was leaving the city; the Pope had fled, and the cardinals were flying. After a delay of a couple of days carriage-horses were hired at a great expense, and the travellers proceeded on their homeward flight. At Mantua delay again occurred, as the passports had to be "signed, re-signed, and countersigned." "At last," says Faraday, "we saw the outside of the town, having, much against our will, remained two hours and a-half in it." Faraday's last letter home is written from Brussels on April 16th; it is to his mother, and is well worth reading: "My very dear Mother,--It is with no small pleasure I write you my last letter from a foreign country, and I hope it will be with as much pleasure you will hear I am within three days of England. Nay more, before you read this letter I hope to tread on British ground.... I am not acquainted with the reason of our sudden return; it is, however, sufficient for me that it has taken place. We left Naples very hastily, perhaps because of the motions of the Neapolitan troops, and perhaps for private reasons. We came rapidly to Rome, we as rapidly left it. We ran up Italy, we crossed the Tyrol, we stepped over Germany, we entered Holland, and we are now at Brussels, and talk of leaving it to-morrow for Ostend; at Ostend we embark, and at Deal we land on a spot of earth which I will never leave again. You may be sure we shall not creep from Deal to London, and I am sure I shall not creep to 18, Weymouth Street; and then--but it is of no use. I have a thousand times endeavoured to fancy a meeting with you and my relations and friends, and I am sure I have as often failed: the reality must be a pleasure not to be imagined or described.... You may be sure that my first moment will be in your company. If you have opportunities, tell some of my dearest friends, but do not tell everybody--that is, do not trouble yourself to do it.... My thoughts wander from one to another, my pen runs on by fits and starts; I do not know what to say, and yet cannot put an end to my letter. I would fain be talking to you, but must cease. Adieu till I see you, dearest mother; and believe me ever your affectionate and dutiful son, "M. FARADAY." "'Tis the shortest and (to me) the sweetest letter I ever wrote you." Thus ended Faraday's wanderings-- "But who may tell What forms he brought away, To stand reveal'd at mem'ry's spell, And glad some distant day!"