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worn in the bronze curbing by these ropes. These water-carriers are very expert at their business; and we stood for some time admiring the manner of filling their buckets. On being lowered, the bucket, by sudden jerks, was set to tilting so that on touching the water it was instantly filled. We wonder if Rachel drew water in this way?

After all, one of the most charming sights of Venice is the hundreds of tame doves that are fed every day in the Piazza San Marco-some accounts say at the expense of the city, and others that "an old lady, widowed and childless, left a large amount to be expended for this purpose, she having been much interested in their welfare during her life." Bædeker says that "according to tradition, Admiral Dandolo, while besieging Candia at the beginning of the thirteenth century, received intelligence from the island by means of carrier pigeons, which greatly facilitated its conquest. He then dispatched the birds to Venice with the news of his success, and since that time their descendants have been carefully tended and highly revered by the citizens. They nestle in the nooks and crannies of the surrounding buildings, and are generally seen in great numbers in the evening perched on the façade of St. Mark's." But whether fed by the city or not, they are not likely to go hungry, for we have never been in the Piazza that we have not observed several tourists who, like ourselves, bought corn and fed them for the pleasure of it. Any number of Italian boys stand ready with their cornucopias of grain for sale; but, as a matter of economy and not to be restricted, we usually filled our pockets at some grocery store on our way to the square, which is the great place of resort for all Venice. The moment

the doves saw we were provided they would flock by hundreds around us, and fly up and eat from our hands; sometimes as many as six or eight resting on our hands, wrists, and arms at the same time, all eager for their repast. They appeared to like our holding them by the toes, as they found it difficult to balance themselves when others were alighting on their backs or necks. We caught one for a moment, but she got away and flew off, evidently indignant at our ill manners. We felt guilty.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

FLORENCE, NOVEMBER 15.—We came here by

way of Padua, Ferrara, and Bologna. We did not stop at Padua, but we had a view of the town from the railroad station. It has much the look of Verona, and, like that city and Mantua, on the road to Modena, it has been made famous by Shakspeare. During the reign of Augustus it is said to have been the wealthiest town in Upper Italy. "From the middle ages down to the present day Padua has been celebrated for its University, which was founded by Frederick II. in 1238. The town, a quiet place of fifty-one thousand inhabitants, occupies an extensive area. Its narrow streets and arcades are interspersed with spacious gardens." Ferrara is a very old town, in which Ariosto and Tasso flourished, to the former of whom, in one of the public squares, there is a high monumental column surmounted by his statue. It was the birthplace of Girolamo Savonarola, and Titian also resided here for a time.

Near one of the churches we saw a number of very beautiful marble monuments and statues, mostly modern, among which is one erected in 1872 by a Mr. Hardcastle, of Boston, to the memory of Alfred Lowell Putnam, a Bostonian, who died there on the 2d of October, 1855. We do not remember to have heard of him before, but he was probably an artist or scholar. For several centuries prior to 1600, when the family became extinct, this city was governed by the house of Este. Roscoe, in his "Life of Leo X.," relates of this family a story, the interest and brevity of which will justify its repetition here. He writes that in the early part of the year 1505 died Ercole of Este, Duke of Ferrara, after having governed his States with great credit, both in war and peace, during thirty-four years. His son, Alfonso I., husband of the infamous Lucretia Borgia, succeeded him. The reign of Alfonso I., Roscoe observes, was marked by a most tragical event, which endangered his safety and destroyed or interrupted his domestic tranquillity. Besides his two sons, Alfonso and Ippolito, the younger of whom, Ippolito, had been raised to the dignity of a Cardinal, the late Duke had left by his wife Leonora a son named Ferdinand, and by a favorite mistress an illegitimate son called Don Giulio. Attracted by the beauty of a lady of Ferrara, to whom they were distantly related, the Cardinal and Don Giulio became rivals in her affections; but the latter had obtained the preference, and the lady herself, in confessing to Ippolito her partiality to his brother, dwelt with apparent pleasure on the extraordinary beauty, of his eyes. The exasperated ecclesiastic silently vowed revenge, and availing himself of an opportunity, while he was engaged with Don Giulio in the chase, he sur

rounded him with a band of assassins, and, compelling him to dismount, with a diabolical pleasure saw them deprive him of the organs of sight. The moderation or negligence of Alfonso in suffering this atrocious deed to remain unpunished excited the resentment not only of Don Giulio, but of his brother Ferdinand, who, uniting together, endeavored by secret treachery to deprive Alfonso at once of his honors and his life. Their purposes were discovered, and after having confessed their crime they were both condemned to die. The fraternal kindness of Alfonso was not, however, wholly extinguished, and at the moment when the axe was suspended over them he transmuted their punishment to that of perpetual imprisonment. In this state Ferdinand remained until the time of his death in 1540, while Giulio, at the expiration of fifty-four years of captivity, was once more restored to liberty.

Bologna is a fine city with irregular streets and long arcades, but the display of shops is not as fine as we have seen in many other cities. As usual, we started out for some of the churches, and went into one building called the "Seven Churches,” a series of small places of worship, and one large Cathedral, adorned with pictures and statuary. In the latter is a recess in the wall, with iron railings in front, and in it a reclining figure representing the body of Christ. There were wreaths of flowers on and near this statue and lighted candles or tapers before it. Of course it is intended to represent Christ in the sepulchre. In front is a Prie Dieu, provided with stationary forms of prayer in large print, which some forlorn-looking persons were repeating with eyes devoutly fixed on the sepulchre. Some of the paintings, one in particular-"A Ma

donna"-in this Cathedral are very fine. The spacious square on which this church stands is used for a market place. It was crowded with sellers and purchasers, the former crying their commodities in all sorts of ways, and making a noise, as it struck our ears a little way off, like the sound of rushing waters. A great many of the Italians we see are wretchedly clothed, and look as though their blood had all been drawn from their veins.

On our way from Bologna our party had for company in our compartment only a Flemish gentleman and his wife and an elegant Italian lady and her little daughter Ada, a sweet child about five years old. This lady could speak no language but her own, nor could any of us either speak or understand more than a few words of Italian. For several hours Ada afforded us all a good deal of pleasure, as she would sit in our laps, singing songs to us, and, in her own tongue, make her remarks on whatever struck her attention. Her mother gave her to eat, first, a handful of boiled chestnuts, which are a great article of food here, especially among the poorer classes, then some grapes, and finally some chocolate candy. About an hour before reaching Pistoria, her stopping place, all at once Ada commenced crying and rolling up her eyes, and soon to vomit, when her mother, thinking she was throwing up blood, became so distracted that she had to be restrained to keep her from springing, child in arms, out of the window. She had given Ada a slate pencil, and as it could not be found she thought the child had swallowed a piece of it, and cried in an excruciating manner that she was dying. All the light we had was shed by a small oil lamp overhead, there was no means of giving the alarm to stop the

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