ours, and there are personal reasons besides why _we_ should thank you.
Have you not quoted us, have you not sent us the book? Surely, good
reasons.

But now, be still better to me, and write and say how you are. I want to
know that you are quite well; if you can tell me so, do. You have told
me of a new book, which is excellent news, and I hear from another
quarter that it will consist of your 'Readings' and 'Remarks,' a sort of
book most likely to penetrate widely and be popular in a good sense.
Would it not be well to bring out such a work volume by volume at
intervals? Is it this you are contemplating?...

Robert and I have had a very happy winter in Florence; let me, any way,
answer for myself. I have been well, and we have been quiet and
occupied; reading books, doing work, playing with Wiedeman; and with
nothing from without to vex us much. At the end of it all, we go to
Rome certainly; but we have taken on this apartment for another year,
which Robert decided on to please me, and because it was reasonable on
the whole. We have been meditating Socialism and mysticism of very
various kinds, deep in Louis Blanc and Proudhon, deeper in the German
spiritualists, added to which, I have by no means given up my French
novels and my rapping spirits, of whom our American guests bring us
relays of witnesses. So we don't absolutely moulder here in the
intellect, only Robert (and indeed I have too) has tender recollections
of 'that blaze of life in Paris,' and we both mean to go back to it
presently. No place like Paris for living in. Here, one sleeps,
'perchance to dream,' and praises the pillow.

We had a letter from our friend M. Milsand yesterday; you see he does
not forget us--no, indeed. In speaking of the state of things in France,