It was most delicious weather, when we came into Modena, where the

darkness of the sombre colonnades over the footways skirting the

main street on either side, was made refreshing and agreeable by

the bright sky, so wonderfully blue. I passed from all the glory

of the day, into a dim cathedral, where High Mass was performing,

feeble tapers were burning, people were kneeling in all directions

before all manner of shrines, and officiating priests were crooning

the usual chant, in the usual, low, dull, drawling, melancholy

tone.

I thought Mr. Dick would have fallen, insensible. 

'Oh, spare me! 

I am not myself! 

Another time!'

'I think Agnes is going to be married.' 

'I hope your horse may think so too, but at present he is holding down his head and his ears, standing before the door there, as if he thought his stable preferable.' 

“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.” 

"Your behaviour has ever 

been kind and noble"