a is
without activity; and, if you leave it, you may walk a mile between
very large houses, churches, convents, and palaces, without meeting
any one. Pistoia, in short, is an improvement on _Oxford_ in the long
vacation--the place, however, has its ancient fame, has given birth to
two or three distinguished literati, and figured in the civil wars.
The fifteenth century records among others the name of _Cini_, whose
epitaph we saw in the cathedral; and the author of the _Riciardetto_
was, we believe, also one of its citizens. In its immediate vicinity
fell _Catiline_. They say the Italian language is spoken here with
great purity of _accent_, which is remarkable, as it is only twenty
miles from the guttural and inharmonious speech of Florence. It was
not our purpose to explore its decayed manufactures, if such there
still exist at all, of fire-arms and organs; indeed, we know not if
pistols and organ-pipes have any thing particular to do with it; so,
after refreshment of the cattle, we passed on through a beautiful
country at its most beautiful season, and thought we had seldom seen
any thing more striking than the views from _Serravalle_, or those
about _Pescia_ and _Monte Catino_. The high, almost the highest
Apennines were right a-head; and could we have taken the wings of the
bird, or of the morning, and lighted on any of those peaks at no great
distance, we should have looked directly down on to the Mediterranean,
and almost into the gulf of _La Spezzia_; we should have seen the long
Ligurian promontory in the distant horizon to the right, and have
embraced Leghorn, Elba, Gorgona, and the coast as far as _Piombino_,
in the opposite direction. An imperceptible ascent conducts from the
_town of Lucca_ towards its _baths_; and you may expect, in about
three hours, to have accomplished its sixteen miles. The road follows
the long windings and beautiful valleys of the _Serchio_, of which,
harmless as it looks, we read on all the bridges records of its
occasional violence, and of their repeated destruction. After a
morning's ride, to which there are few equals even in Italy or
Switzerland, we begin to get our books, and paper, and light luggage,
out of the nets and pockets of the carriage--for there are the _Bagni
Caldi_, about a mile before us. It is not our purpose to describe the
humours of an Italian watering-place; but let it not be supposed that
this retreat is the happy thought of our own restless population. The
E