But in the winter of the year 1844 a terrible and unprecedented flood came.

The rain fell in such torrents all one night that it was feared that the Arno, already much swollen, would not be able to carry off the waters with sufficient rapidity.

I went out early in the morning before breakfast, in company with a younger brother of the Dr.
Nicholson of Penrith whom I have mentioned, who happened to be visiting us.

We climbed to the top of Giotto's tower, and saw at once the terrible extent and very serious character of the misfortune.
One-third, at least, of Florence, was under water, and the flood was rapidly rising.

Coming down from our lofty observatory, we made our way to the "Lung' Arno," as the river quays are called.