to a German on one side and a Frenchman on the other.

His letters throughout his foreign travels are more copious than
ever, but are chiefly minute descriptions of what he saw, such as
would weary the reader who does not want a guide-book even full of
individuality. Yet they cannot be passed by without noticing how he
fulfilled the duty of study and endeavour at appreciation which
everyone owes to great works of art, instead of turning aside with
shallow conceit if he do not enter into them at first sight.

After the wonders of Vienna and the mines of Salzburg, the mountain
scenery of the Tyrol was an unspeakable pleasure, which tries to
express itself in many closely written pages. Crossing into Italy by
the Stelvio Pass, a sharp but passing fit of illness detained Coley
at Como for a day, and caused him to call in an Italian doctor, who
treated him on the starvation system, administered no medicines, and
would take no fee. The next day Coley was in condition to go on to
Milan, where his first impression of the Cathedral was, as so often
happens, almost of bewilderment. He did not at first like the
Lombardo-Gothic style, but he studied it carefully, and filled his
letter with measurements and numbers, though confessing that no part
pleased him so much as the pinnacles terminating in statues, 'each
one a very beautiful martyr's memorial.' Two more visits of several
hours, however, brought the untutored eye to a sense of the harmony
of proportion, and the surpassing beauty of the carvings and
sculpture.

It did not need so much study to enjoy Lionardo da Vinci's great
fresco, of which he wrote long and elaborately, and, altogether,
Milan afforded him very great delight and was a new world to him. It