life, death, and resurrection, which they impart. When we have one good all-sufficient guide to the kingdom of the Father, why take a number which are inferior? They can merely become a hindrance on the way, if they do not wholly mislead from it. That they mislead the attention from the first and the only one, is certain. Thus, in the biography of Rosa Ferucci, it is painful to see how, in the anguish of her soul, during the struggle with death, and with her glance seeking for the Saviour, she is exhorted by her priest “to commend herself to Santa Agatha!”
The Reformers, who again led the Christian community to the Scriptures, and to their living, divine centre, have restored them to the right path of the truth and the life. But Catharine Ferucci understands as little as most Catholics do, as yet, the principle of the reformation. I believe, however, that she will understand it before long, and I would willingly remain here a longer time, merely to have the opportunity of more frequently seeing and conversing with this noble, but unfortunate woman, who now stands bowed over a grave. With the gospel in her hand, she would raise herself again.
Florence, November 10th.—Beautiful, blooming Florence!—how unlike Pisa! All here is life, movement, beauty. The Arno has cleared its waters, green trees shine forth gayly among the elegant houses, the splendid churches and palaces; marble statues—forms of beauty or pensive thought—meet you everywhere, with porticoes and bridges, beneath the blue vault of heaven. The people swarm in crowds across the bridges and squares, through the streets and lanes,
