e Trieste. October 15th. 1859
Saturday.
My dearest Frances,
So fresh, so cool, so green does nature
seem to me on my return to this higher latitude that
Trieste which is indeed beautifully situated in a
small bay surrounded by fertile hills seems a para-
dise. So clean, so strong, so vigorous, so graceful
^so intelligent^ do the people of this region seem compared with
the populations of Syria and Egypt, that civiliza-
tion seems to me first now to have culminated
here. There is nothing squalid in the sights around
me. I am loth to believe it, yet it does seem
to me now that Italy is less happy in its people
than this part of Austria. The people here are a
mixture of Italians, Croats, Sclaves, and Greeks.
Every thing reminds me however that Austria is just at
this moment in camp. Soldiers, of all arms
and uniforms, military evolutions, martial
airs, thundering ordinances are heard all day
and late at night. I have indeed found one and
only one universal language on this side of the
Atlantic exclusive of England. It is that which
speaks through the trumpet. It is the first voice

2
spoken at day break and the last heard at
midnight. It comes off from every hill and tower
and wharf when you enter and when you
are leaving homes. Vigilance is lynx eyed. Passports
are demanded at every point of arrival and
grudgingly returned and delivered to you at
every point of departure. Every where you are
reminded that of the irrepressible conflict
going on between freedom and tyranny.
I am just setting off for Vienna
and the omnibus ^is^ at the door.