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than with a guide, and the objects converse with me at once, with freshness and power. I did not go far on this first ramble. I stopped at a square, which is, at the same time, a Pantheon, for on every side stand tall glorious marble statues, with expressive heads, of great individuality and character, men, interpreted by the master hand of art, which preserves the individuality whilst it presents the ideal. I recognized many old acquaintances,—Dante, with the energetic countenance of nobly bitter lineaments; Michael Angelo, Buonarotti, and Benvenuto Celini, in whom the rough strength is superior to beauty. Boccacio and Petrarch, who seem listening to gentle and pleasant inspirations. Many forms were new to me, as, for instance, Machiavelli, with a countenance devoid of beauty, but captivating from its expression of sagacity and keen sarcasm; Galileo, with a splendid head, indicative of strong concentration and deep attention to the problems of physical creation. But all the forms of artists, poets, thinkers, and warriors, seemed concentrated, one and all, upon his own special calling—whence the indescribably strengthening and beneficial effect of being amongst them. I found myself, without being aware of it, in the court of the Uffizi-reale. In niches all around, built in the walls, were placed, on pedestals, the nobles and great men of Tuscany, and above them smiled the bright heaven of their native land. They now enjoyed a state of tranquillity and honor which had not been granted to them during their lifetime. I proceeded this day no further. The following day I spent in visiting museums and churches.