You are better. I thank God for it. Oh, yes, it is very beautiful, that cathedral. The weather here is cool and enjoyable by day even. At nights it is really cold, and I _have_ thought of a blanket once or twice as of a thing tolerable. I will write again when there is a change. The course of the fever may extend to six days more. Your ever most affectionate BA. * * * * * _To Mrs. Jameson_ Thursday, [end of August 1857]. Dearest Friend,--I think it better to inclose to you this letter which has come to your address. Thank you for your kind words about Lytton, which will be very soothing to him. He continues better, and is preparing to take his first drive to-day, for half an hour, with his _nurse_ and Robert. See how weak he must be, and the hollow cheeks and temples remain as signs of the past. Still, he is convalescent, and begins to think of poems and apple puddings in a manner other than celestial. I do thank God that our anxieties have ended so. Robert bathes in the river every morning, which does him great good; besides the rides at mornings and evenings on mountain ponies with Annette Bracken and a Crimean hero (as Mrs. Stisted has it), who has turned up at the hotel, with one leg and so many agreeable and amiable qualities that everybody is charmed with him. Robert had a letter from Chapman yesterday. Not much news. He speaks of two penny papers, sold lately, after making the fortune of their proprietors, for twenty-five and thirty-five thousand pounds. If Robert 'could but write bad enough,' says the learned publisher, he should recommend one of them. But even Charles Reade was found too good, and the sale fell ten thousand in a few weeks on account of a serial tale of his, so he had to make place to his _worses_. Chapman hears of a 'comprehensive review' being about to appear in the 'Westminster' on 'Aurora,' whether for or against he cannot tell. The third edition sells well. So happy I am to hear that Mr. Procter's son is safe. We saw his name in the 'Galignani,' and were alarmed. Lytton has heard from Forster, but I had no English news from the letter. I get letters from my sisters which make me feel '_froissée_' all over, except that they seem pretty well. My eldest brother has returned from Jamaica, and has taken a place with a Welsh name on the Welsh borders for three years--what I knew he would do. He wrote me some tender words, dear fellow.... May God bless you! Yours in much love, BA. * * * * * _To Miss E.F. Haworth_ La Villa, Bagni di Lucca: September 14, 1857 [postmark]. My dearest Fanny,--A letter from me will have crossed yours and told you of all our misadventures. It has been a summer to me full of blots, vexations, anxieties; and if, in spite of everything, I am physically stronger for the fresh air and smell of green leaves, that's a proof that soul and body are two.