beautiful--even those on advertisements and fire-plugs--but few are
more beautiful than these.

I climbed the campanile one fine morning--417 steps from the
ground--and was well repaid; but I think it is wiser to ascend the
tower of the Palazzo Vecchio, because one is higher there and, since
the bulk of the dome, which intrudes from the campanile, is avoided,
one has a better all-round view. Florence seen from this eminence
is very red--so uniformly so that many towers rise against it almost
indistinguishably, particularly the Bargello's and the Badia's. One
sees at once how few straight streets there are--the Ricasoli standing
out among them as the exception; and one realizes how the city has
developed outside, with its boulevards where the walls once were,
leaving the gates isolated, and its cincture of factories. The
occasional glimpses of cloisters and verdure among the red are very
pleasant. One of the objects cut off by the cathedral dome is the
English cemetery, but the modern Jewish temple stands out as noticeably
almost as any of the ancient buildings. The Pitti looks like nothing
but a barracks and the Porta Ferdinando has prominence which it gets
from no other point. The roof of the Mercato Centrale is the ugliest
thing in the view. While I was there the midday gun from the Boboli
fortress was fired, instantly having its punctual double effect of
sending all the pigeons up in a grey cloud of simulated alarm and
starting every bell in the city.

Those wishing to make either the campanile or Duomo ascents must
remember to do it early. The closing hour for the day being twelve,
no one is allowed to start up after about a quarter past eleven: a
very foolish arrangement, since Florence and the surrounding Apennines
under a slanting sun are more beautiful than in the morning glare,