orrible truth to nature, but I
regretted afterwards having seen them. There are enough forms of beauty
and delight in the world on which to employ the eye, without making it
familiar with scenes which can only be remembered with a shudder.

We derive much pleasure from the society of the American artists who are
now residing in Florence. At the houses of Powers, and Brown, the
painter, we spend many delightful evenings in the company of our gifted
countrymen. They are drawn together by a kindred, social feeling as well
as by their mutual aims, and form among themselves a society so
unrestrained, American-like, that the traveler who meets them forgets
his absence for a time. These noble representatives of our country, all
of whom possess the true, inborn spirit of republicanism, have made the
American name known and respected in Florence. Powers, especially, who
is intimate with many of the principal Italian families, is universally
esteemed. The Grand Duke has more than once visited his studio and
expressed the highest admiration of his talents.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

AMERICAN ART IN FLORENCE.

I have seen Ibrahim Pacha, the son of old Mehemet Ali, driving in his
carriage through the streets. He is hero on a visit from Lucca, where he
has been spending some time on account of his health. He is a man of
apparently fifty years of age; his countenance wears a stern and almost
savage look, very consistent with the character he bears and the
political part he has played. He is rather portly in person, the pale
olive of his complexion contrasting strongly with a beard perfectly
white. In common with all his attendants, he wears the high red cap,
picturesque blue tunic and narrow trowsers of the Egyptians. There is
scarcely a man of them whose face with its wild, oriental beauty, does
not show to advantage among us civilized and prosaic Christians.

In Florence, and indeed through all Italy, there is much reason for our
country to be proud of the high stand her artists are taking. The sons
of our rude western clime, brought up without other resources than their
own genius and energy, now fairly rival those, who from their cradle
upwards have drawn inspiration and ambition from the glorious
masterpieces of the old painters and sculptors. Wherever our artists are
known, they never fail to create a respect for American talent, and to
dissipate the false notions respecting our cultivation and refinement,
which prevail in E