himself who cried, 'Speak then--speak!' to
his statue, as it was carried through the city. But whether true or
false, this fact is surely true, that it is well--nobly and purely
well--with a people when the men amongst it who ply for hire on its
public ways think caressingly of a sculptor dead five hundred years
ago, and tell such a tale, standing idly in the noonday sun, feeling
the beauty and the pathos of it all."

Truly, in a town half of whose income is derived from art-hunting
tourists, and where every vagabond offers himself, in consequence, as a
cicerone, it is no sign that "all is well--nobly and purely well--with a
people," because a coachman who had been asked which was Donatello's
Saint George by about five hundred English "fares," and nearly as many
American young ladies--of whom many of the latter told him all they knew
about it--should have picked up such a tale. In fact, while I have been
amazed at the _incredible_ amount of legend, superstitious traditions,
and incantations existing among the people, I have been struck by their
great ignorance of art, and all pertaining to it; of which, were it worth
while, I could cite convincing and amusing instances.

"But as regards a vast proportion of the 'sweet and light' writing on
the Renaissance and on Italy which is at present fashionable," writes
Flaxius, "I am reminded of the 'esthetic axe'ems' of an American
writer, the first of which were:

"'Art is a big thing. Always bust into teers wen you see a pictur.'

"'Bildins and churches arn't of no account unless they drive you
clean out of your census.'"

THE WITCH OF THE ARNO

"Il spirito usci dal fiume a un tratto,
E venne come Dio l'aveva fatto,
E presentando come un cortegiano
Alla donna gentil la destra mano,
'Scusate,' disse si io vengo avanti
E se vi do la mano sensa guanti."--_Paranti_.

The following, as a French book of fables says, is "a poem, or rather
prose rhymed:"

"Two pretty maids one morning sat by the rushing stream. It murmured
glittering in the sun; it seemed to sing as on it run, enchanting
while a wantoning, as in a merry dream.

"Said one unto the other: 'I wish, and all in truth, that the
glorious dancing river were as fine and brave a youth. Its voice is
like an angel's, its drops of light like eyes so bright are beautiful
I wis. Oh, ne'er before, on sea or