Italian castles and country seats . »ich is the nealreSt^^ay6lif €PWt?^1^n»^ -^^ cathedral of Siet^a,. **We are going right through ? ^.^^^ ^^^^ ^If^ I reach from the window and repeat the question,adding by way of aft ? :t, We have nothing todeclare. The a^itc;- lard generally forgets all about his duties in his interest to explain to us theway to reai oosite gate of the city, and once past we go v on to our hotel without having bag or baggage disturbed or inspected. Florence, to me, is like a wonderful old lady whoshows the traces of great beauty, but who has beensurrounded so much and so of
Italian castles and country seats . »ich is the nealreSt^^ay6lif €PWt?^1^n»^ -^^ cathedral of Siet^a,. **We are going right through ? ^.^^^ ^^^^ ^If^ I reach from the window and repeat the question,adding by way of aft ? :t, We have nothing todeclare. The a^itc;- lard generally forgets all about his duties in his interest to explain to us theway to reai oosite gate of the city, and once past we go v on to our hotel without having bag or baggage disturbed or inspected. Florence, to me, is like a wonderful old lady whoshows the traces of great beauty, but who has beensurrounded so much and so often by the foreigner thata part of her individual self has been lost in adopt-ing by sympathetic imitation the habits and waysof those constantly about her. Florence, in the old[276]. TiS^ AND COUNTRY SEATS part — the river, the Ponte Vecchio, the old palaces, somany of which, unfortunately, have been torn down— is always beautiful and always fascinating, and thesurrounding hills of the Apennines are exquisite toeternity; but the city itself, where we go every day,has so submitted to the notions of the outsider, thatthe real Italian flavor seems to have been lost. Theshops are beautiful, much better than in many of theItalian cities, but there is a foreign air about themthat does not seem natural. T. Tuscany, Florence, October But Arno wins us to the fair white walls,Where the Etrurian Athens claims and keepsA softer feeling for her fairer by her theatre of hills, she reapsHer corn, and wine, and oil, and Plenty leapsTo laughing life, with her redundant the banks where smiling Arno sweepsWas modern Luxury of Commerce born,And buried Learning rose, redeemd to a new morn. Byron. This afternoon Count Cesnola, the nephew of theone-time directo
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectitalydescriptionandt
