hills, and indeed those of the duchy
generally, have throughout Italy the reputation of being morally about
the best population in the peninsula. Servants from the Lucchese, and
especially from the district I am here speaking of, were, and are
still, I believe, much prized. Lucca, as many readers will remember,
enjoys among all the descriptive epithets popularly given to the
different cities of Italy, that of _Lucca la industriosa_.

To us migratory English those singularly picturesque villages which
capped all the hills, and were reached by curiously ancient paved mule
paths zig-sagging up among the chesnut woods, seemed to have been
created solely for artistic and picnic purposes. The Saturnian nature
of the life lived in them may be conceived from the information once
given me by the inhabitants of one of these mountain settlements in
reply to some inquiry about the time of day, that it was always noon
there when the priest was ready for his dinner.

Such were the summer quarters of the English Florentine colony,
_temporibus illis_. There used to be, I remember, a somewhat amusingly
distinctive character attributed, of course in a general way subject
to exceptions, to the different groups of the English rusticating
world, according to the selection of their quarters in either of the
above three little settlements. The "gay" world preferred the "Ponte,"
where the gaming-tables and ballrooms were. The more strictly "proper"
people went to live at the "Villa," where the English Church service
was performed. The invalid portion of the society, or those who wished
quiet, and especially economy, sought the "Bagni Caldi."

In a general way we all desired economy, and found it. The price at
the many hotels was nine pauls a day for board and lodging, including
Tuscan wine, and was as much a fixed and invariable matter as a penny
for a penny bun. Those who wanted other wine generally brought it with
them, by virtue of a ducal ordinance which specially exempted from
duty all wine brought by English visitors to the Baths.

I dare say, if I were to pass a summer there now, I should find the
atmosphere damp, or the wine sour, or the bread heavy, or the society
heavier, or indulge in some such unreasonable and unseasonable
grumbles as the near neighbourhood of four-score years is apt to
inspire one with; but I used to find it amazingly pleasant once upon
a time. It is a singular fact, which the remembrance of those days
suggest