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brightened to us all, so many days of pilgrimage and confinement; and I determined to improve it, by ascertaining, if possible, the probable snccess of my poor friend. I spoke of the many pleasant hours we had passed together, of that social sympathy which had cheered and consoled, and asked her if even those narrow walls would not be left with regret. Consider,' said I, you will no more be charmed with the exquisite elegance of Monsieur Jacques-she looked up to see if I really thought her capable of being interested by such conventional graces' or be enlivened,' I continued, 'by the enthusiastic converse of Don Carlo'-she smiled-or know,' I added, with a more serious and searching glance, 'the affection-ate and gifted society of Delano '—a tear filled her eye, but the smile assumed a brighter meaning. I looked up, and he was before us, gazing from one to the other, with

expression of joyful inquiry, which flashed the happiest conviction on my mind. The passionate Neapolitan had flattered, and the genteel Frenchman had amused, but the faithful Yankee had won the heart of Angelica De Falco.

FLORENCE REVISITED.

"Florence, beneath the sun
Of cities, fairest one."

Shelley.

WE had been riding all night along the Arno, whose turgid waters were shrunk to half their usual dimensions, by the intense heat of midsummer. Dawn was gradually unveiling the heavens, and spreading a soft, silvery light over the landscape, as we drew near the termination of our journey. The vines, by the road-side, stirred cheerfully in the morning breeze, and as one after another of their broad leaves was uplifted, the mossy boughs of the mulberry-trees upon which they are festooned, were momentarily revealed, brightened by the grateful dew. The full grain beneath them, bowed by its own weight, glistened with the same moisture, condensed in chrystals upon its bended tops; and to vary the rich carpet so lavishly spread over the earth, a patch of lupens or artichokes, occasionally appeared, from amid which, rose the low, grey olive, or thin poplar of Tuscany. Sometimes a few dwarf.

ed pines indicated the site of ancient woods, long since extirpated by the genius of Agriculture, or some remnant of an ancient wall marked the old feudal boundaries of the landholders. A still more interesting memorial of those times exists farther back, in the shape of a picturesque tower, celebrated on account of its having been taken by a curious stratagem. Lights were appended to the horns of a flock of goats, which, in the night, appeared like an army, and frightened away the besieged. Early as was the hour, a large group of poor women, spinning flax, were awaiting at the gate of a villa, the customary alms of its proprietor; and often a bend in the river brought us in view of several men dragging a heavily laden barge through its narrow channel. As the day broke, we came in sight of Florence. The mighty dome of its cathedral-that noble monument of the genius of Brunelleschi, and the graceful tower by its side, rose from the mass of dense buildings, like a warrior of the middle ages, and a fair devotee of some more peaceful epoch, standing in the centre, to guard and hallow the city. Far around the walls, spread the hills with a fertile beauty and protecting grace, and through the midst wound the Arno, gleaming in the morning sun. It is a curious feeling-that with which we revisit an Italian city, familiar and endeared to our memory. There are none of those striking local changes, which startle the absentee on his return to the New World. The outward scene is the same; but what revolutions may not his own feelings have undergone, since he last beheld it! How may experience have subdued enthusiasm, and suffering chastened hope!

Will the solemn beauty of the church wherein he was wont to lose himself in holy musing, beguile him, as of old, to meditative joy? Will the picture before which he so often stood, wrapt in admiration, awaken his heart as before? Will the calm beauty of the favorite statue once more soothe his impatient soul? Will the rich and moving strain for which he has so long thirsted, ever thrill as when it first fell upon his ear? And the old, familiar faces'-have a few years passed them by untouched? In such a reverie I went forth to revive the associations of Florence. The dreamy atmosphere of a warm and cloudy day accorded with the pensive delight with which I retraced scenes unexpectedly revisited. Many botanical specimens were added to the unrivalled wax collection at the museum, and several new tables, bright with chalce. dony, amethyst and pearl, were visible at the Pietra dura manufactory. The old priest, whose serene temper seemed a charm against the encroachments of age, had lost something of his rotundity of visage, and his hair was blanched to a more snowy whiteness. A shade of care was evident upon the brow of the man of pleasure, and his reckless air and contracted establishment most strikingly indicated the reduced state of his resources. The flower. girl moved with less sprightliness, and the dazzling beauty of the belle was subdued to the calm grace of womanhood. The artist whom I left toiling in obscurity, had received the reward of his self devotion; fame and fortune had crowned his labors. The beggar at the corner looked as unchanged as a picture, but his moan of supplication had sunk a key lower. The waiter at the caffe maintained

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his accustomed swagger, and promotion had cooled the earnest promptitude which distinguished his noviciate. Three new chain bridges span Arno; being painted white, and supported by massive pillars of granite, surmounted by marble sphinxes, their appearance is very pleasing. The one below the Ponte Vecchio, serves as a fine foreground object in the landscape formed by the adjacent hills; and the other embellishes the vista through which we gaze down the river to the far-off mountains and woods of the Cascine. Utilitarianism is rapidly penetrating even into Tuscany. Demidorff's elegant villa is transformed into a silk manufactory; and a railroad is projected between Florence and Leghorn. With the same stolid dignity rose the massive walls of the Pitti and Strozzi palaces, wearing as undaunted an aspect as when the standards of the ancient factions floated from the iron rings still riveted to their walls. The lofty firs and oaks of the public walk waved in undiminished luxuriance; and the pheasants flitted as lightly over the lawn. The curious tower of the Palazzo Vecchio was relieved with the same vivid outline in the twilight; and the crowd pressed as confusedly through the narrow limits of the Via Calziole. The throng promenade as gaily as ever along the river-side, on the evening of a festival,—the stately peasant-girl, with her finely-wrought hat-the strutting footman-the dark-robed priest--the cheerful stranger, and the loitering artist. The street-musicians gather little audiences as formerly; and the evening bells invade the air with their wonted chime.

The most interesting of Greenough's recent produc

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