Dear West, Probably now you will hear something of the Conclave:  we have left Florence, and are got hither on the way to a pope.  In three hours’ time we have seen all the good contents of this city:  ’tis old, and very snug, with very few inhabitants.  You must not believe Mr. Addison about the wonderful Gothic nicety of the dome:  the materials are richer, but the workmanship and taste not near so good as in several I have seen.  We saw a college of the Jesuits, where there are taught to draw above fifty boys:  they are disposed in long chambers in the manner of Eton, but cleaner.  N. B. We were not bolstered; (184) so we wished you with us.  Our Cicerone, who has less classic knowledge, and more superstition than a colleger, upon showing 147 us the she-wolf, the arms of Siena, told us that Romolus and Remus were nursed by a wolf, per la volonta di Dio, si pu`o dire; and that one might see by the arms, that the same founders built Rome and Siena.  Another dab of Romish superstition, not unworthy of Presbyterian divinity, we met with in a book of drawings:  ’twas the Virgin standing on a tripod composed of Adam, Eve, and the Devil, to express her immaculate conception.

You can’t imagine how pretty the country is between this and Florence; millions of little hills planted with trees, and tipped with villas or convents.  We left unseen the great Duke’s villas and several palaces in Florence, till our return from Rome:  the weather has been so cold, how could one go to them?  In Italy they seem to have found out how hot their climate is, but not how cold; for there are scarce any chimneys, and most of the apartments painted in fresco so that one has the additional horror of freezing with imaginary marble.  The men hang little earthen pans of coals upon their wrists, and the women have portable stoves under their petticoats to warm their nakedness, and carry silver shovels in their pockets, with which their Cicisbeos stir them-Hush! by them, I mean their stoves.  I have nothing more to tell you; I’ll carry my letter to Rome and finish it there.

R`e di Coffano, March 23, where lived one of the three kings.  The King of Coffano carried presents of myrrh, gold, and frankincense, I don’t know where the devil he found them; for in all his dominions we have not seen the value of a shrub.  We have the honour of lodging under his roof to-night. lord! such a place, such an extent of ugliness!  A lone inn upon a black mountain, by the side of an old fortress! no curtains or windows, only shutters! no testers to the beds! no earthly thing to eat but some eggs and a few little fishes!  This lovely spot is now known by the name of Radi-cofani.  Coming down a steep hill with two miserable hackneys, one fell under the chaise; and while we were disengaging him, a chaise came by with a person in a red cloak, a white handkerchief on its head, and a black hat:  we thought it a fat old woman; but it spoke in a shrill little pipe, and proved itself to be Senesini. (185) I forgot to tell you an inscription I copied from the portal of the dome of Siena: