The silence and repose have been heavenly things to me, and the country is very pretty, though no more than pretty--nothing marked or romantic, no mountains (did you fancy us on the mountains ?) except so far off as to be like a cloud only, on clear days, and no water.

Pretty, dimpled ground, covered with low vineyards; purple hills, not high, with the sunsets clothing them.

But I like the place, and feel loth to return to Florence from this half-furnished villa and stone floors.

The weather is still very hot, but no longer past bearing, and we are enjoying it, staying on from day to day.

Robert proposed Palermo instead of Rome, but I shrink a little from the prospect of our being cut up into mincemeat by patriotic Sicilians, though the English fleet (which he reminds me of) might obtain for you and for England the most 'satisfactory compensation' of the pecuniary kind.