LETTER SIXTH.

PISA, August, 18-.

MY DEAR,

My friend Pesciolini called for me this morning, and said, that if I felt so inclined he would be happy to accompany me on a morning call to the residence of Countess Flaminia Testa, the lady whose conversation had delighted us so much at the soiree of the Mastiani. Accordingly, dressed in fawn-coloured morocco shoes on account of the dust, nankeen trousers, and short silk stockings of the same colour, we crept slowly along in the shade of the high houses, till at length, nearly dissolved with the excessive heat, we reached her Palazzo. The barometer is seldom under 95 in the shade; and during August, the very dogs of Pisa will not cross the street. It is a large house, like most of those occupied by the nobility here, which are all dignified by the name of Palazzo, a term much better suited to their former magnificence than their

present decayed condition. This mansion, however, as well as that of the Mastiani, the Baldaserini, the Cavalier Pesciolini, and others of the more wealthy inhabitants, is in a good state of order and preservation. On approaching the house you observe an immense knocker on the strong outer door, which you raise, and give a loud picchiata—a voice from above (after a short reconnoissance) calls out "chi c'e”— "amici" is the reply. A chain from above unfastens the bolt, and you then enter a large square hall, paved generally with flags of delf, and surrounded with benches for the accommodation of servants. The ground floor is never occupied in this country by the family, but is reserved for stowing away the produce of the lands; the proprietors, who are generally the nobility, being paid in kind, and in the habit of disposing of it to the people of the town from a wicket with a knocker situated at the back of the building. To a stranger it appears very mean to sell articles from a wicket in the corner of a great man's mansion; but when the matter is properly understood, it loses that character, and passes as merely one of the characteristic customs of a foreign country. The demand for the produce of the land is excessively sluggish in a region without trade, where the population is very poor, and wonderfully temperate both in eating and drinking. Money is very scarce, and servants' wages little more than their feed

ing, so that nothing is easier than to have an old servant, as is generally the case, ready to hand out any of the articles wanted when a rap comes to the wicket. From long-established custom the said articles are not to be found in the shops, and it thus becomes now a matter of necessity. I am informed, that even at the mansion of the Duke of Strozzi (the most magnificent in Florence), can be seen at all hours the lower orders freely using the knocker of the little wicket, situated round an angle of the house, and procuring a supply of necessaries-of course, for the usual consideration. From the hall we ascended a broad staircase to another of a similar description, and to the right of this are the apartments of the Countess. We then entered a plain saloon, where several servants were waiting, and passed to a drawing-room, in which we waited for a short time to know if the lady would be at home. A servant tapped gently at the door of her sanctum sanctorum, and a clear melancholy voice having called out "passate," he threw it open and announced us in form.

Flaminia was alone, and reclining with a book in her hand on a sofa of blue morocco leather at the upper end of the apartment, which was paved with delf, highroofed, nearly dark, and delightfully cool from the open windows and large external jalousies. In front of the sofa was an elegant table covered with innumerable books, papers, letters, a vast number of beautiful little articles

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of vertú, drawings, etc., etc. With the air and dignity of a queen she extended her little white hand without deigning to look at us, which we most devoutly kissedattempting at the same time our best dancing-school bow-according to the custom of the country, not merely bending over it, as they perform that ceremony with the sovereigns of England, but giving it a bona fide bacino. She made no inquiry after our health, as is customary with our warm-hearted females, but only said in a most languid voice, "Fa caldo assai," "It is exceedingly hot; "Son giusto dal bagno," "I am just from the bath," "Quanto e dilizioso." This icy reception, however, soon began to dissolve as we entered into conversation, and she presently got into her usual amusing and animated strain, with which we were so captivated, that we were both surprised and annoyed beyond measure when a servant entered, and bowing low, pronounced "Pranzo"-their mode of announcing dinner. It is usually taken in Italy, by all ranks, at two o'clock; and we felt much annoyed on this occasion at the unfashionable hour. But the custom of taking the siesta is universal; and when the weather is very sultry it is considered absolutely necessary for digestion, being called L'ora di digestione. At that period of the day the population seem sunk in a much deeper slumber than during the night, when the gayer classes enjoy the cool air, and many of the lower orders endeavour to get

some work over before the overpowering heat begins. Flaminia soothed our disappointment by inviting us to return in the evening and accompany her to the opera. I sauntered slowly home for nearly two miles to my dwelling, the Collegio Vecchio, sadly annoyed by the dust and fervent rays of his glorious majesty.

This house, though ruinous, and the greater part unoccupied, has several advantages. It stands close to a large open space of ground in which the cathedral is situated, and where there is often, towards evening, a nice little sea breeze; the apartments are large and high-roofed, and I am convinced it is the coolest house in Pisa. In the evening we found Flaminia less languid, and more condescending in her reception. There were several other persons present, and we passed a couple of hours in delightful chit-chat; she herself, as usual, being the star of the company. At length we heard a sort of rumbling noise below the apartment— the remise being so formed that she can enter her carriage from a staircase opening from a concealed door at the head of her sitting-room-and my friend and I handed her down, and had the honour to accompany her to the theatre. It was the same opera that I formerly described-for it is customary here to repeat the piece sometimes twenty consecutive nights, the Italians never relishing the music till they have got well acquainted with it. The ladies are exceedingly fond of having