at the latter so abounded, and were so easily collected by an
expert, that I was obliged to cast out my occult folk-lore, piece by
piece, if I ever hoped to get into the port of publication, according to
terms with the underwriters, following the principle laid down by the
illustrious Poggio, that in a storm the heaviest things must go overboard
first, he illustrating the idea with the story of the Florentine, who,
having heard this from the captain when at sea in a tempest, at once
threw his wife into the raging billows--_perche non haveva cosa piu grave
di lei_--because there was nought on earth which weighed on him so
heavily.

There are several very excellent and pleasant works on Old Florence, such
as that portion devoted to it in the "Cities of Central Italy," by A. J.
C. Hare; the "Walks about Florence," by the Sisters Horner; "Florentine
Life," by Scaife; and the more recent and admirable book by Leader Scott,
which are all--I say it advisedly--indispensable for those who would
really know something about a place which is unusually opulent in
ancient, adventurous, or artistic associations. My book is, however,
_entirely_ different from these, and all which are exclusively taken from
authentic records and books. My tales are, with a few exceptions,
derived directly or indirectly from the people themselves--having been
recorded in the local dialect--the exceptions being a few anecdotes racy
of the soil, taken from antique jest-books and such bygone halfpenny
literature as belonged to the multitude, and had its origin among them.
These I could not, indeed, well omit, as they every one refer to some
peculiar place in Florence. To these I must add several which remained
obscurely in my memory, but which I did not record at the time of hearing
or reading, not having then the intention of publishing such a book.

It has been well observed by Wordsworth that minor local legends sink
more deeply into the soul than greater histories, as is proved by the
fact that romantic folk-lore spreads far and wide over the world,
completely distancing in the race the records of mighty men and their
deeds. The magic of Washington Irving has cast over the Catskills and
the Hudson, by means of such tales, an indescribable fascination, even as
Scott made of all Scotland a fairyland; for it is indisputable that a
strange story, or one of wild or quaint adventure, or even of humour,
goes further to fix a place in our memory than anythi