In and out of Florence; a new introduction to a well-known city . ny possible commissionaires, if suchthere might be lurking for visitors in this sleepy littletown. But when we came out and wandered slowlyalong, with eyes fascinated by the crumbling, high,old city wall, with the decaying fortress atop of it,and the little green bushes growing fearlessly in itscrevices, we found ourselves provided with a valetde place, of such insinuating grace and quiet persist-ence that for once we broke one of the firmest articlesin our traveling creed. We surrendered with hardlya struggle, and accepted our
In and out of Florence; a new introduction to a well-known city . ny possible commissionaires, if suchthere might be lurking for visitors in this sleepy littletown. But when we came out and wandered slowlyalong, with eyes fascinated by the crumbling, high,old city wall, with the decaying fortress atop of it,and the little green bushes growing fearlessly in itscrevices, we found ourselves provided with a valetde place, of such insinuating grace and quiet persist-ence that for once we broke one of the firmest articlesin our traveling creed. We surrendered with hardlya struggle, and accepted our master. He was aboy with a live white rat in his arms; or better, hewas the Boy with the White Rat. For he is uniquein our experience. All that sweet, long summer day of loitering inchurches and before corner shrines, standing deaf- 320 Florentine Excursions ened among the copper beaters by the river, or watch-ing and chatting with the wool-weavers and hat-mak-ers in the by-streets, we shared our delights with ourboy of the white rat. As we sat at coffee on the. The patched walls of the ancient Palazzo Pretorio. piazza sidewalk in the shade of the patched walls ofthe ancient Palazzo Pretorio, watching the streetragamuffins climb precariously up to put their thirstylips to those water-spouting ones of the stoneCupid on the old piazza fountain, our rat-tamer andhis blinking charge nestled at our feet. Sometimes we made an imposing procession of it Prato and Pistoja 321 when we picked up followers faster than they tiredof us—or rather of that soft-haired, pink-eyed, whitething nuzzling in our guides arms. For we werenothing to the children of Prato, but the white ratwas much. As we rested on the steps of the foun-tain in the cathedral piazza watching the pigeonswhirling about the beautiful pulpit, we had twelveboys, beside the rat, for company; as many joyouschildren almost as Donatello had carved there in thepulpit reliefs. The pulpit is partly Michelozzos, according toauthorit
Size: 1366px × 1829px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidinoutofflore, bookyear1910
