time or man. The genius of the Danish Thorwaldsen has, however, produced even here, an image full of light and life, in the monument to the memory of the young oculist Vacca, who is represented as restoring sight to an aged, blind man.
The earth of this church-yard—which is surrounded on the four sides by stone-galleries was brought hither from Jerusalem, in fifty galleys, belonging to the republic of Pisa. The construction of the Campo Santo was completed in the year 1283, and singularly—from that time the republic began to hasten to its grave. Nicolo Pisano, and his son Nino Pisano, are the great artists of Pisa, who, during the heroic ages of the republic, advanced Italian art to a greater resemblance with the old Greek models, or with ever-young and beautiful nature, which was the great teacher of the Greeks.
The baths of Pisa, and its Bassino or park, situated at three hours' distance from the city, are celebrated; the former for their health-giving power, the latter for its grandeur and beauty.
But I will now speak of an acquaintance I made in Pisa, who interested me more than all its monuments and notabilities, that of a woman remarkable both for talent and character, the authoress Catharina Franceschi Ferucci.
I had already, when in French Switzerland, heard her spoken of with great praise. During the gloomy period of Italy's unsuccessful attempts at liberation, she, like many another Piedmontese patriot, sought an asylum in Switzerland, and gave in Genoa a course of lectures on Italian literature, which, in con-
