“The picturesque height of San Miniato, now the great cemetery of the city which dominates the Arno from the south, has an especial religious and saintly interest. The grand Basilica, with its glittering ancient mosaic, shines amid the cypresses against the sky, and whether it gleams in the sunlight against the blue, or is cut in black on the primrose sky of twilight, it is equally imposing.”—“_Echoes of Old Florence_,” _by_ LEADER SCOTT. To the old people of Florence, who still see visions and dream dreams, and behold the wind and the stars at noonday (which latter thing I have myself beheld), the very ancient convent of San Miniato, “the only one in Tuscany which has preserved the ancient form of the Roman basilica,” and the neighbourhood, are still a kind of Sleepy Hollow, where witches fly of nights more than elsewhere, where ghosts or _folletti_ are most commonly seen, and where the _orco_ and the nightmare and her whole ninefold disturb slumbers _a bel agio_ at their easiest ease, as appears by the following narrative: SAN MINIATO FRA LE TORRE. “This is a place which not long ago was surrounded by towers, which were inhabited by many witches. “Those who lived in the place often noticed by night in those towers, serpents, cats, small owls, and similar creatures, and they were alarmed by frequently seeing their infants die like candles blown out—_struggere i bambini come candele_; nor could they understand it; but those who believed in witchcraft, seeking in the children’s beds, often found threads woven together in forms like animals or garlands, and when mothers had left their children alone with the doors open, found their infants, on returning, in the fireplace under the ashes. And at such times there was always found a strange cat in the room. “And believing the cat to be a witch, they took it, and first tying the two hind-paws, cut off the fore-claws (_zampe_, claws or paws), and said: “‘Fammi guarire La mia creatura; Altrimenti per te saranno Pene e guai!’ “‘Cure my child, Or there shall be; Trouble and sorrow Enough for thee!’ “This happened once, and the next day the mother was sitting out of doors with her child, when she saw a woman who was her intimate friend at her window, and asked her if she would not wash for her her child’s clothes, since she herself was ill. But the other replied: ‘I cannot, for I have my hands badly cut.’ “Then the mother in a rage told this to other women whose children had been bewitched or died. “Then all together seized the witch, and by beating her, aided with knives crossed, and whatever injuries they could think of, subdued her and drenched her under a tower with holy water. And the witch began to howl, not being able to endure this, and least of all the holy water!