WHERE THE CONCORD OF SWEET SOUND IS A RELIGION 



When Music was young, her abode, according to the poet, was Greece ; but long since 

 she was lured by golden-throated sopranos and soulful tenors to the more congenial clime of 

 Sunny Italy, where every street urchin is an embryo opera star. Perhaps some inglorious — 

 but not mute — Verdi or Puccini, Tetrazzini and Trentini, may here be pictured, lifting their 

 voices in joyous song to the accompaniment of the idolized accordion. 



of inhabitants. Perhaps its prosperity 

 may be assigned as much to the tide of 

 life and commerce that flowed along the 

 Roman road- — its work is largely done 

 today by the railroad that parallels it — 

 as to its natural resources ; but whatever 

 the basis, the fact remains that ^Emilia 

 is full of cities of artistic, social, and 

 manufacturing importance, rich in paint- 

 ing, architecture, and sculpture, and 

 gifted in innumerable other ways ; for, 

 unlike some other provinces, iEmilia has 

 never concentrated all its abilities in the 

 greatest towns, but diffuses its energies 

 so that all centers, of whatever degree, 

 have an interest and importance that is 

 almost unique. 



Bologna, as important a railway center 

 today as it once was a halt on the Roman 

 roads, is a remarkable and interesting 

 town. The old Roman section, of which 

 nothing remains above ground, is the 

 heart of the city, easily recognized be- 

 cause its streets run at right angles and 

 all form a big rectangle. 



Neither sun nor rain nor snow, nor 

 even wind, bothers one much in Bologna, 

 for many of the streets- — most, in fact — 

 are beautifully arcaded, and one may go, 

 untouched by varying weather, under the 

 shady overhangs of shop and palace, 

 mansion and public edifice, as they make 

 aisles beside the nave of the sky-roofed 

 highways. The big, solid piers shadow 

 the pave like a modern awning-stripe 

 gown, and the pleasant afternoon and 

 evening life of the Bolognesi, gossiping 

 and taking their refreshments at little 

 tables in these endless galleries, is very 

 delightful. 



The arcades originated as snow-sheds 

 to shelter the houses from the blizzards 

 that sweep down from the northern 

 slopes. Many of them are very beauti- 

 ful Renaissance structures, with elabor- 

 atelv carved capitals. 



The queerest things in town are the 

 two square brick leaning towers, Gari- 

 senda and Asinelli — intoxicated obelisks, 

 one complete, the other unfinished. They 



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