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ran up and down his spine.  "Its owner, a magician of ancient China, is, like the stone, alive today," affirmed the Englishman.  The young man held another stone, Mexican, he was told, and at once it produced a sinking effect and though small, was so heavy that he gladly put it down again.  The collector further explained that all the stones in his collection had once been used for medicinal purposes; that he was in Florence to take care of them and that they now, as they had to be removed, he was off to American as soon as possible.  Why American he left unexplained.  A servant called Otello waited on the old gentleman but there was no heating nor did there seem to be any food.  On his net visit the Marchese brought with him some tea and a pound of butter.  "Now", at last exclaimed Otello, "my master will have something to eat!"

We learned that our old friend Berenson had escaped from his home at Fiesole taking with him most of his valuable collection of books, photographs and paintings.  His wife Mary, an invalid, was bedridden and so was unable to accompany him.  No one knows where Berenson has gone.  To Switzerland perhaps, but more likely to Sicily where we hope he will keep that art-dealers from looting Italy's palaces and churches.  If this phase of the war in Italy is true, it is despicable beyond words.  Surely American at least will never allow her tradesmen to desecrate in such fashion this great art sanctum of the world. Italy whose very framework is thick-set with the treasures of centuries;