detenzione nella quale non posso fermarmi dopo tanti anni senza risvegliare di nuovo nel mio animo le terribile sofferenze di quel giorno.  La mattina lo trovai tranquillo, e con una espressione di religiosa rassegnazione nel suo volto.  ’Ella e piu felice di noi,’ diss’ egli—­’d’altronde la sua situazione nel mondo non le avrebbe data forse felicita.  Dio ha voluto cosi—­non ne parliamo piu.’  E da quel giorno in poi non ha piu voluto proferire il nome di quella fanciulla.  Ma e divenuto piu pensieroso parlando di Adda, al punto di tormentarsi quando gli ritardavano di qualche ordinario le di lei notizie.”]

* * * * *

LETTER 504.  TO MR. MURRAY.

     “Genoa, October 9. 1822.

“I have received your letter, and as you explain it, I have no objection, on your account, to omit those passages in the new Mystery (which were marked in the half-sheet sent the other day to Pisa), or the passage in Cain;—­but why not be open and say so at first?  You should be more straight-forward on every account.

“I have been very unwell—­four days confined to my bed in ’the worst inn’s worst room,’ at Lerici, with a violent rheumatic and bilious attack, constipation, and the devil knows what:  no physician, except a young fellow, who, however, was kind and cautious, and that’s enough.

“At last I seized Thompson’s book of prescriptions (a donation of yours), and physicked myself with the first dose I found in it; and after undergoing the ravages of all kinds of decoctions, sallied from bed on the fifth day to cross the Gulf to Sestri.  The sea revived me instantly; and I ate the sailor’s cold fish, and drank a gallon of country wine, and got to Genoa the same night after landing at Sestri, and have ever since been keeping well, but thinner, and with an occasional cough towards evening.

“I am afraid the Journal is a bad business, and won’t do; but in it I am sacrificing myself for others—­I can have no advantage in it.  I believe the brothers Hunts to be honest men; I am sure that they are poor ones; they have not a nap.  They pressed me to engage in this work, and in an evil hour I consented.  Still I shall not repent, if I can do them the least service.  I have done all I can for Leigh Hunt since he came here; but it is almost useless:—­his wife is ill, his six children not very tractable, and in the affairs of this world he himself is a child.  The death of Shelley left them totally aground; and I could not see them in such a state without using the common feelings of humanity, and what means were in my power, to set them afloat again.

     “So Douglas Kinnaird is out of the way?  He was so the last time I
     sent him a parcel, and he gives no previous notice.  When is he
     expected again?