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Rh looked out upon the old church of Santa Felice. It was fitted up with large book-cases, constructed of specimens of Florentine carving selected by Mr. Browning, and filled with books. The walls were hung with tapestry, and besides some old pictures of saints there were portraits of Dante, Keats, the boy Browning, and John Kenyon. A quaint mirror, easy chairs and sofas, with a variety of ornaments, filled the partly darkened room. Near the door was a low arm-chair, and beside it a small table strewn with writing materials, books and papers. This was the favorite haunt of the genius of the place. Here she worked, dreamed marvellous visions and wrote poems full of ethereal fire. In another long room filled with plaster casts and studies Robert Browning worked. Their dining-room was adorned with medallions of Tennyson, Carlyle and other noted authors.

Mrs. Browning became deeply interested in the fate of her new country, whose historical associations were so noble, but whose people had long seemed to be sunk in death. Though she had long before said of herself, "I, who am a woman, am not made for war," that in truth was one of the objects for which she lived. She was a battle-trumpet, sounding loud and long to wake the sleeping nation to newness of life. When the Revolution of 1848 stirred Italy from the Alps to Sicily she rejoiced in the fulfilment of her hopes. Her feelings are shown in Part First of "Casa Guidi Windows." The overthrow of the revolutionary attempts is bewailed in Part Second, but still with hope in their resurrection.

From early youth Mrs. Browning had given thought to great public questions, and especially to those pertaining to the moral welfare of the people. The "Cry of the Children" is the greatest of her poems of this class, and its history deserves notice. On her father's removal to London she became acquainted with Richard Hengist Home, a poet