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can do more than merely approach it remotely, no com-
bination of voices or instruments can reproduce or
adequately imitate it—for there is no building but this
one where the strain would not have a noticeable flat-
ness about it as compared with this noble roundness and
fullness.

Saturday, April 30, 1892. Came from Rome to Florence
yesterday. This is the Hotel Grande Bretagne and Arno—
called the best in Florence. It is a vast confusion of halls
and sleeping-holes, a huge congerie of rats' nests, fur-
nished with rubbish, probably bought at pauper auctions.
The cook is the best in Florence, no doubt. He is first
class; the rest of the hotel is fortieth class.

In Rome two weeks ago young Corbett told me of his
adventure in Campagna with his friend Martin, when two
terrific dogs came for them, and their peasant guide put
up a prayer to the Virgin and she vouchsafed a miracle
which saved them.

To Twichell, in America

Dear Joe:

... The dogs of the Campagna (they watch sheep with-
out human assistance) are big and warlike, and are ter-
rible creatures to meet in those lonely expanses. Two
young Englishmen—one of them a friend of mine—were
away out there yesterday, with a peasant guide of the
region who is a simple-hearted and very devout Roman
Catholic. At one point the guide stopped, and said they
were now approaching a spot where two especially
ferocious dogs were accustomed to herd sheep: that it
would be well to go cautiously and be prepared to retreat
if they saw the dogs. So then they started on, but pres-
ently came suddenly upon the dogs. The immense brutes
came straight for them, with death in their eyes. The
guide said in a voice of horror, "Turn your backs, but for