Rome, November 16, 1848.

I am again in Rome, situated for the first time entirely to my mind.  I have only one room, but large; and everything about the bed so gracefully and adroitly disposed that it makes a beautiful parlor,—­and of course I pay much less.  I have the sun all day, and an excellent chimney.  It is very high, and has pure air and the most beautiful view all around imaginable.  Add, that I am with the dearest, delightful old couple one can imagine,—­quick, prompt, and kind, sensible and contented.  Having no children, they like to regard me and the Prussian sculptor, my neighbor, as such; yet are too delicate and too busy ever to intrude.  In the attic dwells a priest, who insists on making my fire when Antonia is away.  To be sure, he pays himself for his trouble by asking a great many questions....

You cannot conceive the enchantment of this place.  So much I suffered here last January and February, I thought myself a little weaned; but returning, my heart swelled even to tears with the cry of the poet,

  “O Rome, my country, city of the soul!”

Those have not lived who have not seen Rome.  Warned, however, by the last winter, I dared not rent my lodgings for the year.  I hope I am acclimated.  I have been through what is called the grape-cure, much more charming, certainly, than the water-cure.  At present I am very well, but, alas! because I have gone to bed early, and done very little.  I do not know if I can maintain any labor.  As to my life, I think it is not the will of Heaven it should terminate very soon.  I have had another strange escape.

I had taken passage in the diligence to come to Rome; two rivers were to be passed, the Turano and the Tiber, but passed by good bridges, and a road excellent when not broken unexpectedly by torrents from the mountains.  The diligence sets out between three and four in the morning, long before light.  The director sent me word that the Marchioness Crispoldi had taken for herself and family a coach extraordinary, which would start two hours later, and that I could have a place in that if I liked; so I accepted.  The weather had been beautiful, but on the eve of the day fixed for my departure, the wind rose, and the rain fell in torrents.  I observed that the river, which passed my window, was much swollen, and rushed with great violence.  In the night I heard its voice still stronger, and felt glad I had not to set out in the dark.  I rose at twilight and was expecting my carriage, and wondering at its delay, when I heard that the great diligence, several miles below, had been seized by a torrent; the horses were up to their necks in water, before any one dreamed of danger.  The postilion called on all the saints, and threw himself into the water.  Tire door of the diligence could not be opened, and tire passengers forced themselves, one after another, into the cold water; it was dark too.  Had I been there, I had fared ill.  A pair of strong men were ill after it, though all escaped with life.