doubts of, as fruit is not so rare at Florence that it should be made a
reward. It is entirely and roughly repainted, and is oval in shape. In
Giotto's Charity, luckily not restored, at Assisi, the guide-books have
always mistaken the heart she holds for an apple:--and my own belief is
that originally, the Grammatice of Simon Memmi made with her right hand
the sign which said, "Enter ye in at the Strait Gate," and with her
left, the sign which said, "My son, give me thine Heart."

II. RHETORIC. Next to learning how to read and write, you are to learn
to speak; and, young ladies and gentlemen, observe,--to speak as little
as possible, it is farther implied, till you _have_ learned.

In the streets of Florence at this day you may hear much of what some
people call "rhetoric"--very passionate speaking indeed, and quite
"from the heart"--such hearts as the people have got. That is to say,
you never hear a word uttered but in a rage, either just ready to
burst, or for the most part, explosive instantly: everybody--man,
woman, or child--roaring out their incontinent, foolish, infinitely
contemptible opinions and wills, on every smallest occasion, with
flashing eyes, hoarsely shrieking and wasted voices,--insane hope to
drag by vociferation whatever they would have, out of man and God.

Now consider Simon Memmi's Rhetoric. The Science of Speaking,
primarily; of making oneself _heard_ therefore: which is not to be
done by shouting. She alone, of all the sciences, carries a scroll: and
being a speaker gives you something to read. It is not thrust forward
at you at all, but held quietly down with her beautiful depressed right
hand; her left hand set coolly and strongly on her side.

And you will find that, thus, she alone of all the sciences _needs no