me, and return hither, and hence to Rome for the autumn, perhaps the winter. I should always suffer the pain of Tantalus thinking of Rome, if I could not see it more thoroughly than I have as yet even begun to; for it was all outside the two months, just finding out where objects were. I had only just begun to know them, when I was obliged to leave. The prospect of returning presents many charms, but it leaves me alone in the midst of a strange land.
I find myself happily situated here, in many respects. The Marchioness Arconati Visconti, to whom I brought a letter from a friend of hers in France, has been good to me as a sister, and introduced me to many interesting acquaintance. The sculptors, Powers and Greenough, I have seen much and well. Other acquaintance I possess, less known to fame, but not less attractive.
Florence is not like Rome. At first, I could not bear the change; yet, for the study of the fine arts, it is a still richer place. Worlds of thought have risen in my mind; some time you will have light from all.
Milan, Aug. 9, 1847.— Passing from Florence, I came
to Bologna. A woman should love Bologna, for there
has the intellect of woman been cherished. In their
Certosa, they proudly show the monument to Matilda
Tambreni, late Greek professor there. In their anatomical
hail, is the bust of a woman, professor of anatomy.
In art, they have had Properzia di Rossi, Elisabetta
Sirani, Lavinia Fontaua, and delight to give their works
a conspicuous place. In other cities, the men alone
have their Casino dei Nobili, where they give balls and
conversazioni. Here, women have one, and are the soul
