The interior of the basilica was to me a soothing dream of beauty. There are few interiors anywhere in this world that truly satisfy, but this is one of them. White marble turned yellow by age is gloriously satisfying. This interior, one hundred feet in diameter and one hundred and seventy-nine feet high, has all the smooth perfection of a blown bubble. Its curve recedes upward and inward so gracefully that the eye has no quarrel with any point. My mind was fascinated by the eight columns and four piers which seemingly support it all and by the graceful open gallery or arcade in the wall resting above the arches below. The octagonal baptismal font, so wide and so beautiful, and the graceful pulpit by Pisano, with its seven columns and three friendly-looking lions, is utterly charming. While I stood and stroked the heads of these amiable-looking beasts, a guide who had seen me enter came in, and without remark of any kind began slowly and clearly to articulate the scale, in order that I might hear the “fine echo” mentioned by Baedeker. Long practice had made him perfect, for by giving each note sufficient space to swell and redouble and quadruple itself he finally managed to fill the great chamber with a charming harmony, rich and full, not unlike that of a wind-harp. If I fell instantly in love with the Baptistery, I was equally moved by the Leaning Tower--a perfect thing. If man is wise and thoughtful he can keep the wonders of great beauty by renewing them as they wear; but will he remain wise and thoughtful? So little is thought of true beauty. Think of the guns thundering on the Parthenon and of Napoleon carrying away the horses of St. Mark’s! I mounted the steps of the tower (one hundred and seventy-nine feet, the same height as the Baptistery), walking out on and around each of its six balustrades and surveying the surrounding landscape rich in lovely mountains showing across a plain. The tower tilts fourteen feet out of plumb, and as I walked its circular arcades at different heights I had the feeling that I might topple over and come floundering down to the grass below. As I rose higher the view increased in loveliness; and at the top I found an old bell-man who called my attention by signs to the fact that the heaviest of the seven bells was placed on the side opposite the overhanging wall of the tower to balance it. He also pointed in the different directions which presented lovely views, indicating to the west and southwest the mouth of the Arno, the Mediterranean, Leghorn and the Tuscan Islands, to the north the Alps and Mount Pisani where the Carrara quarries are, and to the south, Rome. Some Italian soldiers from the neighboring barracks came up as I went down and entered the cathedral, which interiorly was as beautiful as any which I saw abroad. The Italian Gothic is so much more perfectly spaced on the interior than the Northern Gothic and the great flat roof, coffered