My family and I about twenty years ago spent one summer at Careggi de' Medici, and another at Careggi di Riccardi; and during our residence in the latter villa, we invited all the surrounding peasants to a dance. Our ball-room was a lofty apartment sixty feet by thirty; and in the centre of the ceiling hung a lustre, composed of such light materials that every puff of wind gave it motion: indeed it had the appearance of being continually turned round by an invisible hand: this lustre we filled with candles; and the walls, which were adorned with full-length portraits of the Medici-Princes, we likewise decorated with festoons of vines, olive-branches, flowers, and lamps, so that the whole apartment resembled an illuminated arbour. At sun-set, on the appointed day, our guests appeared altogether upon a lawn leading to the villa, preceded by their own band of music: and no sooner did this procession reach our hall door, than the musicians struck up a lively tune; while the dancers, as they entered, formed a quadrille, which would have been applauded on any opera-stage.