[Milan—Saturday, 4 September 1869]

Saturday. We intended to go to the Cathedral again at 6 o’clock to see the morning sun upon the Alps but the day proving cloudy we postponed our ascent until after breakfast—thence to the Brera where we had never been before. Heaps of bad modern pictures were standing before the ancient ones but enough were left (and I believe the best) to satisfy us. We can never forget the frescos by Luini especially the St. Catherine, nor the Virgin, child and holy father by Vandyke nor a dead monk by Velasquez, nor the marriage of the Virgin by Raphael, nor I trust many many others whose memories should come up bringing great lessons of the loveliness of virtues they were intended to illustrate. Afterward we went of course to see the Cena by Leonardo da Vinci; the upper part of Christ’s face in which patience still shines and must so long as a trace of the original remains, with unearthly sanctity.

Away from Milan with all the attractions of a pleasant city to Cadennabbia rattling hastily through Como (in an omnibus, I regret to say) and arriving much wearied in time for dinner.

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