violets to be bought in the streets here, but as I had failed to find a single flower, even after the most diligent search, I began to regard this as the special privilege of the children of the soil. To-day, on my way home, I had the luck to come upon a place where they grew in profusion. This is the second subject of my letter. I send you a few sweet blossoms gathered by my own hand. May they remind you of the South, the sun, and the sea!” _To N. F. von Meck._ “SAN REMO, _January_ 25_th_ (_February_ 6_th_), 1878. “I am feeling splendidly well. My physical health is first-rate; my head clear and strong. I observe myself with delight, and have come to the conclusion that I am now completely recovered. Do you know, my dear friend, people have not been altogether wrong in reporting that I had gone out of my mind? When I look back on all I did, and all the follies I committed, I am unwillingly forced to the conclusion that my brain was temporarily affected, and has only now returned to its normal state. Much in my recent condition now takes on the semblance of a strange dream; something remote, a weird nightmare in which a man bearing my name, my likeness, and my consciousness acted as one acts in dreams: in a meaningless, disconnected, paradoxical way. That was not my sane self, in full possession of logical and reasonable will-powers. Everything I did then bore the character of an unhealthy conflict between will and intelligence, which is nothing less than insanity. Amid these nightmares which darkened my world during this strange and terrible--but fortunately brief--period, I clung for salvation to the one or two beings who were dearest to me, who seemed sent to draw me out of the abyss. To you, and to my two dear brothers, _to all three of you_, I owe, not only my life, but my mental and physical recovery.” _To P. I. Jurgenson._ “SAN REMO, _January_ 26_th_ (_February_ 7_th_), 1878. “Your letter reached me to-day, dear Peter Ivanovich. You are very kind. I am deeply touched by your liberality. All the same, I will not accept any money for the opera unless it should be performed in some important theatre, and, even then, nothing approaching to the large sum you propose. The fee for the symphony I wish to pass on to Taneiev. For the translations I cannot take anything from you, because I think them very poor. As regards a fee for the violin and ‘cello pieces, we will speak of it later. “Dearest friend, I am only too thankful that you are not parsimonious to me and are so willing to publish my works. But this is nothing new, I have always appreciated your large-hearted liberality. _Merci, merci, merci!_” _To Nicholas Rubinstein._