a. It is precisely in this manner
that most early science was confused with superstition; and there is more
of it still existing than even the learned are aware of.

I know not whether echoes are more remarkable in and about Florence than
elsewhere, but they are certainly specially noticed in the local
folk-lore, and there are among the witches invocations to echoes, voices
of the wind, and similar sounds. One of the most remarkable echoes which
I ever heard is in the well of the Villa Guicciardini, now belonging to
Sir John Edgar. It is very accurate in repeating every sound in a manner
so suggestive of a mocking goblin, that one can easily believe that a
peasant would never doubt that it was caused by another being. It
renders laughter again with a singularly strange and original effect.
Even when standing by or talking near this mystic fount, the echo from
time to time cast back scraps of phrases and murmurs, as if joining in
the conversation. It is worth observing (_vide_ the story of the Three
Horns) that this villa once belonged to--and is, as a matter of course,
haunted by the ghost of--Messer Guicciardini, the great writer, who was
himself a faithful echo of the history of his country, and of the wisdom
of the ancients. Thus into things do things repeat themselves, and souls
still live in what surrounded them. I have not seen this mystic well
noticed in any of the Florentine guide-books of any kind, but its goblin
is as well worthy an interview as many better known characters. Yea, it
may be that he is the soul of Guicciardini himself, but when I was there
I forgot to ask him if it were so?

I can, however, inform the reader as to the incantation which is needed
to call to the spirit of the well to settle this question. Take a copy
of his "Maxims" and read them through; then drink off one glass of wine
to the health of the author, and, bending over the well, distinctly
cry--"Sei Messer Guicciardini, di cosi?"--strongly accentuating the last
syllable. And if the reply be in the affirmative, you may draw your own
conclusions. For those who are not Italianate, it will do quite as well
if they cry, "Guicciardini? No or yes?" For even this echo is not equal
to the Irish one, which to "_How do you do_?" replied, "Pretty well, I
thank you!"

There is a very good story of the Ponte alle Grazie, anciently known as
the Rubaconte, from the Podesta in whose year of office it was built,
told originally by Sach