The Argosy — page 147: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

132 In Sunny Climes. wide the doors, but the refreshment rooms were barred and bolted, and coffee was not forthcoming even for a king’s ransom. This the fair city of flowers with its balmy air and genial skies? I had never felt anything more cruelly cold in the most Northern latitudes. But on the evening of which I now write all was different. The skies were bright and beautiful. The far-off hills were guiltless of snow. The heat was intense. The omnibus of the Hotel de la Paix was in waiting, and we were soon rattling through the streets of the Fair City. We had it to ourselves, for no other travellers had alighted for the hotel which is the best in Florence, and, be it said, one of the most expensive in Italy : exorbitant in some of its charges. But its situation is good. From our windows we could watch the flowing Arno, separated from us only by the road. Lower down was the wonderful Ponte Vecchio with its quaint old houses and lovely old | shops, where a perfect blaze of turquoise, coral and other temptations \ await the traveller. But what a change from the city we had recently left! This was another world, and Florence with all its charm seemed almost tame | and commonplace in comparison with the influences of the Eternal City. These comparisons of course should never be drawn ; places, like people, should stand on their own merits, be judged by their ; own individuality ; but in these days of rapid transition it is im- | possible to avoid comparisons. Before one influence has had time i to fade into the background you are thrown violently upon another. Travelling rapidly from place to place is something like reading a collection of short stories. You no sooner grow interested than the ! break and the end come; you have to turn the page and begin | again. The true charm lies in the long story, and the true : delight in the long sojourn. In the one case you close the book, | having made a new set of friends which are yours for ever; and in | the other you have laid up in store scenes and spots with which you i have grown intimate and familiar, and in the archives of memory they also are yours for ever. An endless picture-gallery, to be called up i at will, at all times and in all seasons ; in broad sunlight, or in night’s i darkest and most silent hours. I We had a proof of it that night. We went out upon the quay ‘| when the stars were shining and a glorious planet cast her reflection | upon the still, dark waters of the Arno. We leaned over the stone parapet and watched the stream, and the heavens so clearly reflected upon its surface. Upon the narrow stone copings men were here and there stretched at full length, fast asleep. How they could do it was a marvel. ‘The slightest push, and over they would have rolled. The least stir in their slumber, and it seemed as if nothing could save them from a plunge and a splash into the river, flowing far below: a plunge and a splash, and, for all one knew, a speedy death. It may be that life had no charms for them, and they were indifferent whether death came or not; and so, with the irony of fate, they CORNICE OO KS nCOM