TRAVEL BOOKS BY THE SAME WRITER. THROUGH NORMANDY. THROUGH BRITTANY. PICTURES AND LEGENDS FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. IN THE ARDENNES. ABOUT YORKSHIRE. IN THE VOLCANIC EIFEL WITH GILBERT S. MACQUOID. IN PARIS WITH GILBERT S. MACQUOID. Illustrated by THOMAS R. MACQUOID, R.I. VIA APPIA PICTURES IN UMBRIA By KATHARINE S. MACQUOID WITH FIFTY ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS By THOMAS R. MACQUOID, R.I. NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS LONDON: T. WERNER LAURIE MDCCCCV Fertile costa d'alto monte pende, Onde Per

Our book treats of a few of the Hill-cities of Umbria, but it does not attempt exhaustive detail in regard to Perugia, Assisi, or any other. Several old contemporary writers have greatly helped the book, notably the delightful chronicler Matarazzo, and some of his fellows; besides the "Legend of the Three Companions," and the very quaint "Fioretti di San Francesco." "The Life of San Bernardino of Siena," by Pierre Clément, was also very useful. In the book itself I speak of the great enjoyment I

It has been said that the face which exercises most permanent charm is the face whose attractions defy analysis; one in which beauty is subtle, compounded of many and varied qualities, so that, gazing at the harmonious whole, it is impossible to specialise its fascination. Such a face will not, at first, reveal its charm, for much of this does not lie only in regularity of feature, or in beauty of colouring, nor even in the trick of a smile; the spell is so potent, that when one at last tries to

RAFFAELLE. The day after our arrival we went up some steps near the hotel, bordered by aloes not yet in bloom, and gemmed with brilliant-eyed lizards darting in and out in the sunshine; presently we found ourselves under the lofty walls that once supported the fortress built by command of Pope Paul III. , on the site of the Baglioni palaces. In this wall is bricked up an ancient Etruscan gate—the Porta Marzia, which came in the way of this erection. One is glad, for the sake of freedom, to think

NICOLO PISANO. The next morning we took our way up a side turning into the Corso, the handsomest street in Perugia. The shop windows had the day before been made extra gay, to attract the market-sellers; they still showed long strings of cut coral beads. There is a mass of fine, as well as interesting, fourteenth century building on the left of the Corso: the Collegio del Cambio, and the Palazzo del Pubblico, or, as it is also called, Palazzo Comunale. This has a richly-sculptured doorway, and e

PERUGINO. The Corso was on the left near the Fonte grand range of ancient buildings, in which is the entrance to the chapel of the Cambio; beside this is the Sala, adorned with Perugino's famous frescoes. A little farther on is the richly-sculptured doorway of the Palazzo Pubblico, and within this is the Pinacoteca, containing a very interesting collection of art treasures. Here are marvellous frescoes by Bonfigli; and pictures by him and by Piero della Francesca, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, and other

The pleasantest and shortest road to the railway is by Porta Eburnea. I started one day from this gate with a friend, by a steep path which leaves the road just outside the Porta, and curves along the side of the hill below the old wall. The bank, this fine morning, was gay with butterflies and wild flowers, and wreathed with a luxuriant growth of wild gourd, full of pale blossoms and small furry fruit; all was so wild, it seemed impossible we had only just left a busy city behind us. THE WAY TO

POTS AT WINDOW. We had greatly desired to see the façade of the Oratory built in honour of San Bernardino of Siena, and we went in search of it. Going past the cloisters of the cathedral, we traversed the street beyond them: on one side is a fragment of an old palace, on the other a quaint series of ancient arches, one within the other, full of striking effects of light and shade. A street descends steeply from this portal. We noted here, and in many of the old house-fronts, carved brackets, for

The most remarkable church in Perugia is the church, at the end of the southern point of the city, attached to the convent of San Pietro; below it is the gate named after San Costanzo, said to have been the first Bishop of Perugia. On the opposite side of the way from the convent wall is a pleasant public resort, shaded by trees, called Passeggiata Pubblica. From this point, looking down the steep road, one gets a delightful view of the near valley and distant Apennines, framed in by the arch of

GIRL'S HEAD. A few days later, as we went along a lane, with grassy flower-pied banks, and with purple hills as background to the sunlit glory which surrounded us, we recognised the delightful landscape so frequently used by Perugino. The way was rather long, but there was more in it to interest than to tire us. We at last arrived at the dark descent beside the road, which forms the entrance to the sepulchre of the Volumnii. Many years ago there was supposed to be a necropolis existing in this h

The Oratory of San Bernardino is near to gardens, orchards, and drying grounds. Beyond the convent of San Francesco the ancient wall goes northward, and then turns east towards the Porta Augusta, but this afternoon we went southwards. A short walk down a steep narrow street beneath an archway led us out of the low-browed passage of the Etruscan Porta Susanna on to the wall itself. This rises up directly from La Cupa, as the indentation which the valley here makes is called. The wall follows the

GIOTTO. We had for years desired to make a pilgrimage to Assisi, and now, across the lovely valley the sight of the little white town clinging to Monte Subasio, veiled by grey and purple vapour, was a daily reminder of our wish. Some places stamp themselves into the heart, and while life lasts the longing to revisit them increases, till realisation quenches desire. A visit to such a haunt of delightful memories as Assisi requires time, so we waited till a few days could be spared. It was very ea

STATUE OF ST. FRANCIS. As we mounted the hill the great shrine had seemed to rise higher and higher above us; in the flaming sunshine the olives looked a pale silver against the deep blue sky. When at last we took the way to the monastery, we seemed to have reached a deserted town. Assisi was still and lifeless; the very inn was asleep. Flies and gnats, however, made us sharply feel that the heat gave them extra thirst, and that we were a boon in this absence of human life. We had been told that

Our little hotel, the Albergo Subasio, is close to San Francesco, and from its windows commands a most exquisite view of the valley and the richly-tinted hills. If time served, one could spend hours in enjoying the beauty of this landscape, so full of colour and of variety. We passed by San Francesco, and up the long, solemn street which it seems to guard. Grass grows freely between the stones that pave the street, which mounts very steeply; farther up were shops, but all were full of silence. N

It is better, perhaps, after visiting Chiesa Nuova, to go next to St. Mary of the Angels at the foot of the hill, instead of visiting San Francesco, the saint's memorial church; for at the Portioncula, within the walls of Santa Maria, Francis lived and worked and died. Most of the Brothers whose names have come down to us were received into the Order within the walls of the little chapel. The vast baldness of Santa Maria's nave, rebuilt less than a hundred years ago, in consequence of the damage

September had nearly fled, yet the leaves in the Tronto garden had hardly begun to change colour; the air, however, was now extremely cold as soon as the sun had departed. The wine-carts which daily thronged the streets warned us that the vintage would soon be over. Day after day, as we looked from our windows in early morning, we saw flocks of sheep with their attendant shepherds, and herds of goats coming down in great numbers from the mountains. They trooped past our windows, and took their w

OLIVE BRANCH. The most interesting part of the journey to Cortona is the view of Lake Thrasymene, with its reedy shores and islands, near the picturesque little town of Passignano. As one leaves the station below Cortona, and mounts the hill to the grandly placed town, Thrasymene comes in sight again, and adds much to the beauty of the landscape. It is almost worth while to go to Cortona for the sake of the drive up from the station, and the exquisite view from the city walls, ponderous marvels