ortable quarters, that we almost regretted our
visit was to be so short. However, there was a decided air of melancholy
about the old city; the narrow streets with their arcaded walks were
unnaturally silent. These arcades afford shelter from both the sun and
rain, and one finds but little use for the English umbrella. The walks
are sometimes bordered by chestnut trees, and there are pleasant gardens
surrounding the quaint and noble old palaces. In Italy every residence
with an entrance for carriages is entitled a palace palazzo.

Not far from our hotel is the Church of S. Maria dell' Arnea, so called
from its standing near the ruins of an old Roman amphitheatre. It is a
plain Gothic building, designed by Giotto when quite young, and contains
his wonderful frescoes. Dante was living with him at this time.

The interior of the church--often called Giotto's Chapel--is somewhat
cold and bare at first sight; but the beauty of the paintings, which are
in a very fair state of preservation, considering their age, speedily
dispels this idea. The frescoes represent the history of the Virgin from
the rejection of Joachim's sacrifice to Mary's bridal procession. Ruskin
says, "It can hardly be doubted that Giotto had a peculiar pleasure in
dwelling on the circumstances of the shepherd life of the father of the
Virgin, owing to its resemblance to that of his own early years."

The Annunciation, the birth, and youth of the Saviour, and the events of
His ministry up to His driving the money-changers from the Temple, form
a second series; and afterwards the story of His passion and
crucifixion. They are most tenderly and beautifully dealt with,
conveying deep impressions of this painter's wonderful power, and the
concentrated thought and labour he must have bestowed upon his work.
There are also allegorical frescoes, representing very appropriately the
virtues and vices. The female figures of this artist are singularly
graceful.

"The works of Giotto," says a modern writer (Lindesay), "speak most
feelingly to the heart in his own peculiar language of dramatic
composition; he glances over creation with the eye of love, all the
charities of life follow in his steps, and his thoughts are as the
breath of the morning. A man of the world, living in it, and loving it,
yet with a heart that it could not spoil nor wean from its allegiance to
God--'non meno buon Christiano che excellenti pittore,' as Vasari
emphatically describes him. His re