shall only be able to see a
little bit of sky, I will remember this day and it will encourage
me. I will make light of my own small interests by thinking of the
greatness and majesty of God; I will love Him alone, and will not
be so foolish as to attach myself to the fleeting trifles of this
world, now that my heart has had a glimpse of what is reserved for
those who love Him."

After having contemplated the works of God, I turned next to
admire those of His creatures. Milan was the first Italian town we
visited, and we carefully studied its Cathedral of white marble,
adorned with countless statues. Celine and I left the timid ones,
who hid their faces in fear after climbing to the first stage,
and, following the bolder pilgrims, we reached the top, from
whence we viewed the city below. When we came down we started on
the first of our expeditions; these lasted the whole month of the
pilgrimage, and quite cured me of a desire to be always lazily
riding in a carriage.

The "Campo Santo"[9] charmed us. The whole vast enclosure is
covered with marble statues, so exquisitely carved as to be
life-like, and placed with an apparent negligence that only
enhances their charm. You feel almost tempted to console the
imaginary personages that surround you, their expression so
exactly portrays a calm and Christian sorrow. And what works of
art! Here is a child putting flowers on its father's grave--one
forgets how solid is marble--the delicate petals appear to slip
through its fingers. Sometimes the light veils of the widows, and
the ribbons of the young girls, seem floating on the breeze.

We could not find words to express our admiration, but an old
gentleman who followed us everywhere--regretting no doubt his
inability to share our sentiments--said in a tone of ill-temper:
"Oh, what enthusiasts these French people are!" and yet he also
was French. I think the poor man would have done better to stay at
home. Instead of enjoying the journey he was always grumbling:
nothing pleased him, neither cities, hotels, people, nor anything
else. My Father, whose disposition was the exact opposite, was
quite content, no matter what happened, and tried to cheer our
friend, offering him his place in the carriage or elsewhere, and
with his wonted goodness encouraging him to look on the bright
side of things. But nothing could cheer him. How many different
kinds of people we saw and how interesting it is to study the
world when one is just a