_Rome, Oct_. 28, 1847.--I am happily settled for the winter, quite by
myself, in a neat, tranquil apartment in the Corso, where I see all
the motions of Rome,--in a house of loving Italians, who treat me
well, and do not interrupt me, except for service. I live alone, eat
alone, walk alone, and enjoy unspeakably the stillness, after all the
rush and excitement of the past year.
I shall make no acquaintance from whom I do not hope a good deal,
as my time will be like pure gold to me this winter; and, just for
happiness, Rome itself is sufficient.
To-day is the last of the October feasts of the Trasteverini. I have
been, this afternoon, to see them dancing. This morning I was out,
with half Rome, to see the Civic Guard manoeuvring in that great field
near the tomb of Cecilia Metella, which is full of ruins. The effect
was noble, as the band played the Bolognese march, and six thousand
Romans passed in battle array amid these fragments of the great time.