and artists; to walk step by step instead of whirling along in a
carriage; and to grow to feel a close intimacy with her sculptures and
paintings, and even with the very stones that are built into her palace
walls.

For Florence is comparatively a small city. A good pedestrian can easily
walk from Porta Romana on the south to Porta Gallo on the north; or
from Porta San Niccolo on the east, along the banks of the Arno, to the
Cascine Gardens on the west. It is only an afternoon of genuine delight
to climb the lovely, winding ways leading up to San Miniato, or to
Fiesole, or to the Torre del Gallo,--the "Star Tower of Galileo." And
what a feeling of possession one has for a road which he has travelled
foot by foot; for the rocks and trees and vine-covered walls, and the
ever-changing views which continually demand attention! One absorbs and
assimilates as in no other way.

So when, at breakfast one morning, Mr. Sumner suggested a walk up to
Fiesole, a picnic lunch at the top in the grounds of the old monastery,
and the whole day there, coming down at sunset, his proposition met with
delighted assent. It was planned that Mrs. Douglas should take a
carriage, and invite Miss Sherman and Howard Sinclair to go with her,
but the others were ready and eager for the walk. Anita, the little
housemaid, was to accompany them and carry the luncheon, and she was on
tiptoe with joy, because a whole day under the open sky is the happiest
fortune possible for an Italian girl; and, besides this, they would have
to pass close by her own home, and perhaps her little brother could go
with her.

All felt a peculiar affection for Fiesole, because from the house in
which they were living they could look right out upon the historic old