uldn't, as the picture is so
dim it can hardly be seen. Ambrosian Library.--Lock of L. Borgia's hair;
tea-coloured and coarse. Don't believe in it a bit. Jolly old books, but
couldn't touch 'em. Fine window to Dante. Saw cathedral illuminated;
very theatrical, and much howling of people over the deputies from Rome.
Don't know why they illuminated or why they howled; didn't ask. Men here
handsome, but rude. Women wear veils and no bonnets,--fat and ugly.
Gloves very good.--Arch of Peace.--More peace and less arch would be
better for Italy.

'Raphael's Marriage of the Virgin.--Stiff and stupid. Can't like
Raphael. Dear, pious, simple, old Fra Angelico suits me better.

'To the Public Garden with A.; saw a black ostrich with long pink legs,
who pranced and looked so like an opera dancer that we sat on the fence
and shrieked with laughter.

'Pavia.--To the Certosa to see the old Carthusian Convent founded in
1396; cloisters, gardens, and twenty-four little dwellings, with chapel,
bedroom, parlour, and yard for each monk, who is never to speak, and
comes out but once a week. A nice way for lazy men to spend their lives
when there is so much work to be done for the Lord and his poor! Wanted
to shake them all round, though they did look well in their gowns and
cowls gliding about the dim cloisters and church. Perhaps they are kept
for that purpose.

'Parma.--Dome of church frescoed by Correggio. All heaven upsidedown;
fat angels turning somersaults, saints like butchers, and martyrs
simpering feebly. Like C.'s babies much better. Heaven can't be painted,
and they'd better not try. Madonna, by Girolamo, was lovely. Room of the
Abbess, with rosy children peeping through the lattice, very charming.
Madonna della Scodella--the boy Christ very charming. The old Farnese
Theatre most interesting; got a scrap of canvas from a mouldy scene.
Dead old place is Parma.

'Bologna.--Drove in a pelting rain to the Academy, and saw many
pictures. A Pieta, by Guido, was very striking. The desolate mother,
with her dead son on her knees, haunted me long afterwards. St. Jerome
and the infant Christ, by Elizabeth Sirani, I liked. Raphael won't suit
yet. Sad for me, but I cannot admire Madonnas with faces like
fashion-plates, or dropsical babies with no baby sweetness about them.

'Florence.--Bought furs. Nice climate to bring invalids into. Always did
think Italy a humbug, and I begin to see I was right. Acres of pictures.
Like about six ou