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Florence. Besides many valuable paintings in fresco as well as on canvas, there are a great many monuments here of a striking character, among which are those of Dante, Machiavelli, Alfieri, Galileo, (died 1642,) and Michael Angelo, (died 1564,) the remains of the latter two of whom rest here. On Michael Angelo's tomb there is a bust, by Baptista Lorenzi, said to be a correct likeness of the great artist; and guarding the door are three statues, in mournful attitude, representing "Painting," "Sculpture," and "Architecture." The position of this

tomb is said to have been selected by Michael Angelo himself, that he might see from his last resting place the dome of the Cathedral, "the delight and study of his mind." The Bonaparte family own a chapel in this church, and there are monuments in it to Carlotta Bonaparte, who died in 1830, and to Clara Bonaparte, whose death took place in 1845. Within one square of our boarding house there is a splendid mansion fronting the Arno, the residence of a nephew of Napoleon I. It occupies, with its garden and outhouses, an entire square.

We have been into several other churches here, all of them more or less attractive on account of their age and the many interesting objects they contain.

Fronting on the Piazza della Signoria, one of the largest squares of the city, and the scene of Savonarola's martyrdom in 1498, is the Palazzo Vecchio, "originally the seat of the Republic, and subsequently the residence of Cosmo I., erected in 1298." It is an interesting old edifice, containing many fine frescoes. Also, fronting on the same square is the Loggia dei Lanzi, erected in 1376. Under the portico, among other statuary, is John of Bologna's group in marble, called the "Rape of the Sabines,"

and another group, by Fedi, called the "Rape of Polyxena." Fedi is an Italian artist here, whose studio we have visited. He is an enthusiast, and seemed to take great pleasure in showing us what he had accomplished in works of art. Newman, an American gentleman devoted to painting in water colors, has a studio here, where we saw some excellent pictures; and we have been also to the studio of Ciseri, an Italian painter, whose remarkable oil painting of "The Entombment" hangs in the Crystal Palace, London.

We have been to McNamee's studio, a sculptor from Brooklyn, N. Y., to see his model, not yet completed, of his "Base Ball Player,” on which he said he had been engaged four years. His living model was present and took the attitude being represented, that we might compare the one with the other. The model's right foot on tip toe is at the base, while his left, with the body, is stretched forward and arms extended to the utmost point-both hands ready to catch the ball-and head turned toward his left shoulder, looking with intense eagerness as if to follow the direction of the ball. It is a singular fact that this living model, an Italian of twenty-five or thirty years of age, from having been rather a frail young man when he first stood for Mr. McNamee, has by this exercise become powerfully muscular, and his left thigh, from the greater strain upon it, has increased in size three inches more than his right. Mr. McNamee has just completed a beautiful bust in marble of Miss Kinsley, of Brooklyn.

The Riding Park and open promenade lies west of the city, extending back on the banks of the Arno about two miles. One of the six or seven bridges over the Arno at Florence crosses from this Park,

which on fine days is a great place of resort for all the gay people of the city.

Many odd sights appear in the market places, not the least being the market people themselves. Many of the poor people one is sure to find here have the most woe-begone look, more especially when the weather is cold. Evidently they are reduced to the greatest extremity, and are ready to seize on almost any kind of food to keep from starvation. We see them parting with their last soldo for a piece of warm chestnut bread and a mouthful of fried blood of fowls and animals, which are slaughtered and their blood saved and cooked on the spot. If the weather is cold, those of them who are able carry in their hands a scaldino, a small earthern vessel filled with a few live coals and hot ashes to keep from freezing to death. These vessels have handles, and we see the shivering poor carrying them in chilly weather wherever we go in the streets.

During the most of the three weeks we have been in this city the weather has been anything but pleasant, being either cloudy and raw or rainy. In the middle of last month it rained for a whole week almost incessantly, and the Arno became so swollen that the city authorities became alarmed and took measures to guard against an overflow, such as we are informed occurred here six years ago, when the Lung Arno, the street which runs the entire length of the city on the east bank of the river, was three feet under water.

We have lingered longer in Florence than we anticipated doing. Ho! now for the "Eternal City."

CHAPTER XLII.

I am in Rome! oft as the morning ray
Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry,

Whence this excess of joy? what has befallen me?
And from within a thrilling voice replies,

Thou art in Rome.

-Rogers.

ES, here we are in the "Eternal City!" but it seems more like a dream than a reality.

Leaving Florence at half past eight on the morning of the 9th of December, we came in sight of the dome of St. Peter's at half past four in the afternoon. No other sign of the city was visible. The day was fair, and the sun, now but a little above the horizon, revealed a long, low range of clouds, which, lighted up by its rays, looked like a serpentine stream of fire. It was, indeed, a beautiful Italian sunset, and after two months of almost continual cloudy weather, it was not strange that we witnessed it with some degree of enthusiasm. On our near approach to the city we might easily have imagined ourselves as entering Washington from the north, the land being low and level, and no part of the city being in sight until we came within a short distance of its walls, which are in a dilapidated condition. In less than five minutes we were within the gates and at the railroad dépôt. A porter was ready at the car door to carry our light baggage to a carriage, which we entered, and gave directions to the coachman to drive us to the Hôtel della Pace, No. 8 via Sistina, where comfortable quarters had been engaged for us by friends whom we had met in Florence, and who had arrived there a few days before us. We shall have occasion to speak of these friends hereafter.

Our coachman started off with us, but before we reached the street from the dépôt his horse began to back and turn, and showed so ugly a disposition that we alighted, determined to try another team which should go forward instead of backward. If we were to have our necks broken, we desired at any rate to see Rome first. However, the driver having called two men to his assistance, we ventured to return to our seats, and the horse finding three too many for him, wisely concluded to behave himself, and we were soon landed at our hotel, where, thanks to our friends, we found a nice room with a wood fire awaiting us. The day had been quite cold, and we observed that ice had formed over shoal water and along the edges of the streams by the roadside; nevertheless we enjoyed every moment of the way, since every foot of ground over which we passed is historical territory. At Arrezzo, the ancient Arretium, where the Roman consul Flaminius lost his life in an encounter with Hannibal's army, we stopped long enough to gather leaves and touch the soil consecrated by the blood of the slain. Many of the towns we passed are built upon hills and strongly protected by thick walls. Orvieto is a most singular looking old place, situated on an isolated tufa rock, or ledge, over seven hundred feet above the river Paglia at its base. We could not see into it, as it is surrounded by a wall and entered from a steep paved road winding around the eastern side. "In the middle ages it was a stronghold of the Guelphs and often afforded an asylum to the Popes.' We should have been glad to have stopped a day or two at every one of these old towns; but it was not in our programme and we must be content with a good look at the great cities.

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