courage the new subjects which have most recently awakened my sympathy. Should I not, perhaps, do better were I to write the "Iphigenia at Delphi," instead of amusing myself with my fanciful sketches of "Tasso"? However, I have bestowed upon the latter too much of my thoughts to give it up, and let it fall to the ground.
I am sitting in the anteroom, near the chimney: and the warmth of a fire, for once well fed, gives me courage to commence a fresh sheet; for it is indeed a glorious thing to be able with our newest thoughts to reach into the distance, and by words to convey thither an idea of our immediate state and circumstances. The weather is right glorious, the days are sensibly lengthening, the laurels and box are in blossom, as also are the almond-trees. Early this morning I was delighted with a strange sight: I saw in the distance tall, pole-like trees, covered over and over with the loveliest violet flowers. On a closer examination I found it was the plant known in our hothouses as the Judas-tree, and to botanists as the cercis siliquastrum. Its palpilionaceous violet blossoms are produced directly from out of the stem. The stakes which I saw had been lopped last winter, and out of their bark well-shaped and deeply tinted flowers were bursting by thousands. The daisies are also springing out of the ground as thick as ants: the crocus and the pheasant's-eye are more rare, but even on this account more rich and ornamental.
What pleasures and what lessons the more southern land will impart to me, and what new results will arise to me from them! With the things of nature it is as with those of art: much as is written about them, every one who sees them forms them into new combinations for himself.
When I think of Naples, and indeed of Sicily; when I read their history, or look at views of them,—it strikes me as singular that it should be even in these
