[A few extracts from letters, written and received during this summer by my mother, may not be without interest. Also parts of two from my mother's old and valued friend Miss Joanna Baillie. The second letter was written several years later, and is nearly the last she ever wrote to my mother.] * * * * * FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ. VENICE, _21st July, 1843_. I most sincerely rejoice to hear that Agnes and you have gone to the Rhine, as I am confident a little change of air and scene will be of the greatest service to you both.... We are quite enchanted with Venice; no one can form an idea of its infinite loveliness who has not seen it in summer and in moonlight. I often doubt my senses, and almost fear it may be a dream. We are lodged to perfection, the weather has been charming, no oppressive heat, though the thermometer ranges from 75 deg. to 80 deg., accompanied by a good deal of scirocco; there are neither flies nor fleas, and as yet the mosquitoes have not molested us. We owe much of our comfort to the house we are in, for there are scarcely any furnished lodgings, and the hotels are bad and dear, besides situation is everything at this season, when the smaller canals become offensive at low water, for, though there is little tide in the Mediterranean, there are four feet at new and full moon here, which is a great blessing. We have now seen everything, and have become acquainted with everybody, and met with kindness and attention beyond all description. Many of the great ducal families still exist, and live handsomely in their splendid palaces; indeed, the decay of Venice, so much talked of, is quite a mistake; certainly it is very different from what it was in its palmy days, but there is a good deal of activity and trade. The abolition of the law of primogeniture has injured the noble families more than anything else. We rise early, and are busy indoors all morning, except the girls, who go to the Academy of the _Belle Arti_, and paint from ten till three. We dine at four, and embark in our gondola at six or seven, and row about on the glassy sea till nine, when we go to the Piazza of San Marco, listen to a very fine military band, and sit gossiping till eleven or twelve, and then row home by the Grand Canal, or make a visit in one of the various houses that are open to us. One of the most remarkable of these is that of the Countess Mocenigo's, who has in one of her drawing-rooms the portraits of six doges of the Mocenigo name. I was presented by her to the Duc de Bordeaux, the other evening, a fat good-natured looking person. I was presented also to the Archduke--I forget what--son of the Archduke Charles, and admiral of the fleet here; a nice youth, but not clever. We meet him everywhere, and