Some cities in the world are as dear to us as people, but can such a feeling be justified towards a foreign city and above all, towards a city so intensely foreign as Florence? I believe so, and I should like to shpw how and why one can gradually become so bewitched by the fair land of Florence that, if forced to leave it, one is haunted by a longing to return. It is not always the first impression that conveys this enchantment. I remember my very first glimpse of Florence — how long ago ! — on a mournful autumn evening, grey and rainy. In the last century Florence was badly lighted.