LETTERS FROM FLORENCE IO/ 



sleep well, and have no earthly ache, pain or discomfort. I can 

 walk for a couple of hours or more without fatigue. But half 

 an hour's talking wearies me inexpressibly, and " saying a few 

 words," would finish me for the day. For all that, I do not mean 

 to confess myself finally beaten till I have had another try. 



That is to say, he was still bent upon delivering his 

 regular course of lectures at South Kensington as soon as 

 he returned, in spite of the remonstrances of his wife and 

 his friends. 



In the same letter he contrasts Florence with Siena and 

 its " fresh, elastic air," its " lovely country that reminds one 

 of a magnified version of the Surrey weald." The Floren- 

 tine climate was trying.* " And then there is the awful 

 burden of those miles of l treasures of art.' He had been 

 to the Uffizii ; " and there is the Pitti staring me in the face 

 like drear fate. Why can't I have the moral courage to 

 come back and say I haven't seen it ? I should be the most 

 distinguished of men." 



There is another reference to Gordon : 



What an awful muddle you are all in in the bright little, 

 tight little island. I hate the sight of the English papers. The 

 only good thing that has met my eye lately is a proposal to raise 

 a memorial to Gordon. I want to join in whatever is done, and 

 unless it will be time enough when I return, I shall be glad if 

 you will put me down for 5 to whatever is the right scheme. 



The following to his daughter, Mrs. Roller, describes the 

 stay in Florence. 



HOTEL DE MILANO, FLORENCE, March 7, 1885. 

 We have been here more than a week and have discovered 

 two things, first that the w r onderful " art treasures," of which 



* A week later he writes to Sir J. Evans " I begin to look forward 

 with great satisfaction to the equability of English weather to that 

 dear little island where doors and windows shut close where fires 

 warm without suffocating where the chief business of the population 

 in the streets is something else than expectoration and where I shall 

 never see fowl with salad again. 



"You perceive I am getting better by this prolonged growl. . . . 

 But half an hour's talking knocks me up, and I am such an effete 

 creature that I think of writing myself p. R. S. with a small p." 



