I open this to say that we are "booked" for another fortnight here. My mother went to consult the Virgin about going away last night, and she--that is, the saint--gave such a sneeze that my mother fainted, and was carried home insensible. The worst of all this is that Father Giacomo--our guide in spirituals--insists on my mother's publishing a little tract on her experiences; and the women are now hard at work with pen and ink at a small volume to be called "St. Agatha of Orsaro," by Jemima D------. They have offered half a florin apiece for good miracles, but they are pouring in so fast they 'll have to reduce the tariff. Tiverton recommends them to ask thirteen to the dozen. The governor is furious at this authorship, which will cost some five-and-twenty pounds at the least! LETTER XXII. MRS. DODD TO MRS. MARY GALLAGHER Hôtel Feder, Genoa. My dear Molly,--It's little that piety and holy living assists us in this wicked world, as you 'll allow, when I tell you that after all my penances, my mortifications, and my self-abstainings, instead of enjoyment and pleasure, as I might reasonably look for in this place, I never knew real misery and shame till I came here. I would n't believe anybody that said people was always as bad as they are now! Sure, if they were, why would n't we be prepared for their baseness and iniquity? Why would we be deceived and cheated at every hand's turn? It's all balderdash to pretend it, Molly. The world must be coming to an end, for this plain reason, that it's morally impossible it can be more corrupt, more false, and more vicious than it is. I 'm trying these three days to open my heart to you. I 've taken ether, and salts, and neumonia--I think the man called it--by the spoonfuls, just to steady my nerves, and give me strength to tell you my afflictions; and now I 'll just begin, and if my tears does n't blot out the ink, I 'll reveal my sorrows, and open my breast before you.