tell me, I shall find still more so. By the time you get this letter I shall be on my return, leaving Trinacria behind me. Such is man; he is always either anticipating or recalling: I have not yet been there; and yet I now am, in thought, back again with you! However, for the confusion of this letter I am not to blame. Every moment I am interrupted; and yet I would, if possible, fill this sheet to the very corner.
Just now I have had a visit from a Marchese Berio, a young man who appears to be well informed. He was anxious to make the acquaintance of the author of "Werther." Generally, indeed, the people here evince a great desire for, and delight in, learning and accomplishments; only they are too happy to go the right way to acquire them. Had I more time, I would willingly devote it to observing the Neapolitans. These four weeks—what are they compared with the endless variety of life?
Now, farewell. On these travels I have learnt one thing at least,—how to travel well: whether I am learning to live I know not. The men who pretend to understand that art, are, in nature and manner, too widely different from me for setting up any claim to such a talent.
Farewell, and love me as sincerely as I from my heart remember you.
These few days have been entirely passed in packing and leave-taking; with making all necessary arrangements, and paying bills; looking for missing articles; and with preparations of all kinds. I set the time down as lost.
The Prince of Walbeck has, just at my departure, unsettled me again. For he has been talking of nothing less than that I should arrange, on my return, to go with him to Greece and Dalmatia. When one enters once into the world and takes up with it, let
