"Read this manuscript carefully, Teresuola mia dolcissima, and pray for the souls of those unhappy ones who perished by the pestilence." Liverpool, June 2, 1840.
Morning is dawning as I write, and all the feeling of my soul can be expressed in one word, the sublimest of all words, which is intelligible to many of different languages and different races. I will end with this: "Alleluia!" The note which accompanied Langhetti's journal was as follows: "HALIFAX, December 18, 1848. "TERESUOLA VIA DOLCISSIMA, I send you my journal, sorella carissima.
"I was only a little fellow when I saw you last, and you have changed somewhat since then," said Despard. "But when did you arrive? I knew that you were expected in England, but was not sure that you would come here." "What! Teresuola mia," said Langhetti with a fond smile at his sister. "Were you really not sure, sorellina, that I would come to see you first of all?
Alas, and alas, and alas, if she is! Yet could I but see that woman, I would tear the truth from her if I perished in the attempt!" And Langhetti stretched out his long, slender hand, as though he were plucking out the very heart of some imaginary enemy. "Think, Teresuola," said he, after a while, "if you were in captivity, what would become of my opera?