You would have had this letter sooner, my dearest Woronzow, if I had not been prevented from writing to you yesterday evening.... The weather has been atrocious; deluges of rain night and day, and so cold that I have been obliged to lay in a second supply of wood. The only good day, and the only one I have been out, was that on which the king arrived. It fortunately was fine, and the sight was magnificent; quite worthy of so great an historical event. No carriages were allowed after the guns fired announcing that the king had left Leghorn; so we should have been ill off, had it not been for the kindness of our friend the Marchesa Lajatico, who invited us to her balcony, which is now very large, as they have built an addition to their house for the eldest son and his pretty wife. We were there some hours before the king arrived; but as all the Florentine society was there, and many of our friends from Turin and Genoa, we found it very agreeable. The house is in the Prato, very near the gate the king was to enter. On each side of it stages were raised like steps in an amphitheatre, which were densely crowded, every window decorated with gaily-coloured hangings and the Italian flag; the streets were lined with "guardie civiche," and bands of music played from time to time. The people shouted "Evviva!" every time a gun was fired. In the midst of this joy, there appeared what resembled a funeral procession--about a hundred emigrants following the Venetian, Roman, and Neapolitan colours, all hung with black crape; they were warmly applauded, and many people shed tears. They went to the railway station just without the gate to meet the King, and when they hailed him as "_Re d'Italia!_" he was much affected. At last he appeared riding a fine English horse, Prince Carignan on one hand and Baron Ricasoli on his left, followed by a numerous "_troupe doree_" of generals and of his suite in gay uniforms and well mounted. The King rides well; so the effect was extremely brilliant. Then followed several carriages; in the first were Count Cavour, Buoncompagni, and the Marchese Bartolommei. You cannot form the slightest idea of the excitement; it was a burst of enthusiasm, and the reception of Cavour was as warm. We threw a perfect shower of flowers over him, which the Marchesa had provided for the occasion; and her youngest son Cino, a nice lad, went himself to present his bouquet to the King, who seemed quite pleased with the boy. I felt so much for Madame de Lajatico herself.... I said to her how kind I thought it in her to open her house; she burst into tears, and said, though she was in deep affliction, she could not be so selfish as not offer her friends the best position in Florence for seeing what to many of them was the most important event in