otnote 66: From the "Letters of a Traveler," first published in
book form in 1850. The selection here given was written in 1834. It
has been republished by Parke Godwin, Bryant's biographer and editor,
in one of his two volumes devoted to the "Prose Writings."]

After the long procession of sheep and goats and dogs and men and
women and children, come horses loaded with cloths and poles for
tents, kitchen utensils, and the rest of the younglings of the flock.
A little after sunrise I see well-fed donkeys, in coverings of red
cloth, driven over the bridge to be milked for invalids.
Maid-servants, bareheaded, with huge, high-carved combs in their hair,
waiters of coffee-houses carrying the morning cup of coffee or
chocolate to their customers, bakers' boys with a dozen loaves on a
board balanced on their heads, milkmen with rush baskets filled with
flasks of milk are crossing the streets in all directions. A little
later the bell of the small chapel opposite to my window rings
furiously for a quarter of an hour, and then I hear mass chanted in a
deep strong nasal tone. As the day advances, the English, in white
hats and white pantaloons, come out of their lodgings, accompanied
sometimes by their hale and square-built spouses, and saunter stiffly
along the Arno, or take their way to the public galleries and museums.
Their massive, clean, and brightly polished carriages also begin to
rattle through the streets, setting out on excursions to some part of
the environs of Florence--to Fiesole, to the Pratolino, to the Bello
Sguardo, to the Poggio Imperiale.

Sights of a different kind now present themselves. Sometimes it is a
troop of stout Franciscan friars, in sandals and brown robes, each
carrying his staff and wearing a brown, broad-brimmed hat with a
hemispherical crown. Sometimes it is a band of young theological
students, in purple cassocks with red collars and cuffs, let out on a
holiday, attended by their clerical instructors, to ramble in the
Cascine. There is a priest coming over the bridge, a man of venerable
age and great reputation for sanctity. The common people crowd around
him to kiss his hand, and obtain a kind word from him as he passes.
But what is that procession of men in black gowns, black gaiters, and
black masks moving swiftly along, and bearing on their shoulders a
litter covered with black cloth? These are the Brethren of Mercy, who
have assembled at the sound of the cathedral bell, and are conveying