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the ' three hundred,' including Giotto and Cimabue. Certainly we can never be surrounded by truer horrors than in the presence of the types depicted by these artists in the churches of Florence or Sienna ! I do not hesitate to pronounce it the most hideous collection, whatever its lovers, and Signers Vasari, Tiraboschi, Lami, Bianchini, Moreni, etc. etc., say of it. They have allowed the least sincere words of their vocabulary of admiration to drop on it, from their too partial pen.s. Such arms, such legs, and such hands ! Can anything more ridi- culous be imagined ?

Oh ! I cannot show you in them the little hands of a princess to whom there lack only some brilliants to become the real gem of a glass case; and the small heads full of feeling, drawn on ivory, half hid- den in a cloud of fair curly hair; or the proud dark type, chiselled in bronze, with a great mass of coarse black hair flowing down like a cascade on the back of the neck and on the brow, and with figures Titianesque and Michaelangel- esque poses, and the others like cherubs that appear to have delighted in short dresses, and so ani- mate with a greater charm the little figures of Lippi, or the frescoes of Aneelico. Follow me to the ' Trinita dei Monti' or to the 'Via Sistina' towards evening, where the traditions of centuries have chosen to pitch their tents. Up there is the models' quarter generally. We shall find there crowds, with whom we can mingle, converse, shake hands, exchange familiarities, all gratuitously, only not forgetting that the pain- ters' jargon is a pragmatic law. If home-sickness pleases you, calm of aspect, and soul, there is Cecilia, alone, sad, with passionate eyes, and the movement of a fading flower which sways in a liglit breeze. Among the crowd and the noise she walks silent, somewhat sorrowful as if on a desert shore. And the predilection of the French artists who are living in Rome and who wish to have her secures for her large earnings. And yet there are some of the models of the dilettante to whom the dollars give much thought.

Do you wish a brunette ? There is Oliva, a true Spaniard, although she was born in a Roman Anda- lusia, which is called the 'Piazza Montanara.'

No one fails to paint a ' Portena lincla who makes love with any bull-fighter. Black hair, black and velvety eyes, lips of coral, and all the rest of the receipt. She wears delicious- ly the costume of the ' Cioc'iara,^ al- though she does not know whether the 'Ciociaria' is a country or a ' sauce piquante.' That does not matter to her at all, — is it not so .? These two are equally characteris- tic types of the model tribe. And what others ? There is Bibbi- ana, also dark, but not curly-haired like her companion, a little like a heroine of Genesis, having decidedly something biblical in her fig- ure, in her bearing, and in her glances, which are deep and

I find the name Bibbiana fits her to a nicety, whilst a certain tranquil grace which she shows in her posture and gestures, makes her majestic and adorable — for a time ! She is famous for her hands, which are neither small nor white, but which can deal blows or cuff's wonder- fully ! On one occasion at the Artists' Club, they were joking rather too far about her moral char- acter. And reputation we know is the highest feather that can be blown about backwards and forwards ; that of Bibbiana had been blown about a little too much. She did not complain of it, but kept the rigidity of lier pose with 'mucli determina- scrutniismg.