.

The spell of Scotland.
"I think I was never so completely under the spell of a country as I am of Scotland." I made this acknowledgment freely, but I knew that it would provoke comment from my compatriots.
"Oh yes, my dear, you have been just as spellbound before, only you don't remember it," replied Salemina promptly.

"I have never seen a person more perilously appreciative or receptive than you." "'Perilously' is just the word," chimed in Francesca delightedly; "when you care for a place you grow porous, as it were, until after a time you are precisely like blotting-paper.

Now, there was Italy, for example.
After eight weeks in Venice, you were completely Venetian, from your fan to the ridiculous little crepe shawl you wore because an Italian prince had told you that centuries were usually needed to teach a woman how to wear a shawl, but that you had been born with the art, and the shoulders! Anything but a watery street was repulsive to you.
Cobblestones?
'Ordinario, duro, brutto! A gondola?
Ah, bellissima! Let me float for ever thus!' You bathed your spirit in sunshine and colour; I can hear you murmur now, 'O Venezia benedetta! non ti voglio lasciar!'" "It was just the same when she spent a month in France with the Baroness de Hautenoblesse," continued Salemina.

"When she returned to America, it is no flattery to say that in dress, attitude, inflection, manner, she was a thorough Parisienne.