anxieties and labours of the jcurney seems incomprehensible. "My poor invalid friend," writes Mrs. Jameson, "suffered much from fatigue; and, considering that she had passed seven (sic) years without ever leaving her room, you can imagine what it was to convey her from Paris to Pisa. Luckily our journey was nearly over before the heavy rains commenced."
Miss Mitford, telling one of her correspondents of Elizabeth Barrett's marriage, adds: "Love really is the wizard the poets have called him: a fact which I always doubted till now. But never was such a miraculous proof of his power as her travelling across France by diligence, by railway, by Rhone-boat—anyhow, in fact; and, having arrived in Pisa so much improved in health that Mrs. Jameson, who travelled with them, says, 'she is not merely improved but transformed.' I do not know Mr. Browning; but this fact is enough to make me his friend."
Mrs. Macpherson, speaking of the enchanting memories of that journey from Paris to Pisa, spent in such companionship, says, "The loves of the poets could not have been put into more delightful reality before the eyes of the dazzled and enthusiastic beholder;" but she only permits herself, in the life of her aunt, to recall in print one scene among many of this wonderful journey. She says: "We rested for a couple of days at Avignon, the route to Italy being then much less direct and expeditious, though I think much more delightful, than now; and while there we made a little excursion, a poetical pilgrimage, to Vaucluse. There, at the very source of the 'chiare, fresche e dolci acque,' Mr. Browning took his wife up in his arms, and carrying
