promenades, round the doors of coffee-houses that are never closed
either day or night; they follow their religious processions; they
cluster with an easy good-natured curiosity round every thing that wears
the appearance of a fête; taking whatever amusement presents itself,
without caring to detain it, and quitting it without the least distrust
that some other quite as good will occupy its place. "One evening we
were roused," says our traveller, "by a noise in the street: two or
three musicians of the opera, on leaving the theatre, had taken a fancy
to go home playing a waltz. The scattered population of the streets
arranged themselves, and followed waltzing. The men who could find no
better partners, waltzed together. Five or six hundred persons were
enjoying this impromptu ball, which kept its course from the opera house
to the Port del Prato, where the last musician resided. The last
musician having entered his house, the waltzers returned arm-in-arm,
still humming the air to which they had been dancing."

"It follows," continues M. Dumas, "from this commercial apathy,
that at Florence you must seek after every thing you want. It
never comes of itself--never presents itself before
you;--everything there stays at home--rests in its own place. A
foreigner who should remain only a month in the capital of
Tuscany would carry away a very false idea of it. At first it
seems impossible to procure the things the most indispensable,
or those you do procure are bad; it is only after some time
that you learn, and that not from the inhabitants, but from
other foreigners who have resided there longer than yourself,
where anything is to be got. At the end of six months you are
still making discoveries of this sort; so that people generally
quit Tuscany at the time they have learned to live there. It
results from all this that every time you visit Florence you