perience may be credited, the reader may be assured, that casual acquaintance not unfrequently ripens into settled and permanent friendship. Continental connections in general are of a very different nature; however agreeable, they are contracted only for the occasion, and cannot be supposed, in general, strong enough to resist the influence of absence. Besides, why should we voluntarily reject one of the greatest advantages of travelling, an opportunity of selecting friends, and forming sincere and durable attachments; for, as Ovid observes in some beautiful lines, there is not a stronger bond than that which is formed by a participation of the accidents and of the vicissitudes of a long and eventful journey*.

Te duce, magnificas Asiæ perspeximus Urbes:
Trinacris est oculis, te duce, nota meis.
Vidimus Etnæâ cœlum splendescere flammâ;
Suppositus monti quam vomit ore gigas:
Hennæosque lacus, et olentia stagna Palici,

Quaque suis Cyanen miscet Anapus aquis
Et quota pars hæc sunt rerum, quas vidimus ambo,
Te mihi jucundas efficiente vias!

Seu rate cæruleas picta sulcavimus undas :

Esseda nos agili sive tulere rotâ.

Sæpe brevis nobis vicibus via visa loquendi;
Pluraque, si numeres, verba fuere gradu.
g 2

SCENERY.

The general face of the country, so conspicuously beautiful all over Italy, merits from this circumstance alone peculiar attention, and when to its picturesque features we add those charms, less real but more enchanting, which Fancy sheds over its scenery, we give it an irresistible interest, that awakens all the feelings of the classic youth. Our early studies, as Gibbon justly observes, allow us to sympathize in the feelings of a Roman; and one might almost say of every school boy not insensible to the sweets of his first studies, that he becomes in feeling and sentiments, perhaps even in language, a Roman. It is not then wonderful, that when in a riper age he visits that country and beholds those very scenes which he has imaged to himself so long before, he should feel an uncommon glow of enthusiasm, and, in the moment of enchantment, should add some imaginary to their many real

Sæpe dies sermone minor fuit; inque loquendum

Tarda per œestivos defuit hora dies.

Est aliquid casus, pariter timuisse marinos;

Junctaque ad æquoreos vota tulisse Deos:

Hæc tibi si subeant (absim licet) omnibus horis

Ante tuos oculos, ut modo visus, ero.

OVID. EP. EX PONTO, lib. ii. x. 21. seq.

charms. Besides, the scenery of Italy is truly classical; I mean, it is such as described by poets and historians. Earthquakes, the only species of revolution that can permanently alter the great features of nature, however common they may be there, have, if we except a few places in the neighbourhood of Naples, and some distant parts of the coasts of Calabria, made in the whole but little alteration. Even wars, invasions, and the devastation of eighteen centuries have not yet eradicated those local ornaments that arise either from the tendency of the soil or from the persevering attention of the inhabitants. The Sylaris is still shaded with groves and thickets; the rose of Pastum, though neglected, still blooms twice a year, to waste its sweetness on the desert air; · while Mount Alburnus still glories in the ilex and in the neverfading verdure of his lofty forests.

But not to anticipate various observations that will occur, each in its proper place, one advantage, at all events, the face of nature possesses in Italy, which is, that it seldom or never disappoints the traveller, or falls short of his expectations, however high they may have been previously raised; on the contrary, if I may form any opinion of the sentiments of foreigners in general by my own and by those of my fellow travellers, the lakes, the vale of the Clitumnus, the fall of the Anio, the banks of the Nar, the waters of Tibur, the groves of Albano, and the plains, the hills, the coasts, the bays of Campania Felix, not only

equal but even surpass the descriptions of the poets, and the bright pictures of youthful imagination.

RUINS.

The same observation cannot be applied to ruins, which, however interesting they may be, seldom answer expectation. When we read or hear of Roman ruins we figure to ourselves a vast scene of broken columns, shattered cornices, mutilated statues, hanging arches, and interrupted colonnades. Such a magnificent scene of desolation may indeed be seen at Pastum, Agrigentum, and Selinus; and such also is occasionally presented on the Seven Hills, in the majestic remains of the ancient City. But these grand objects are rare; for, if to the exceptions just mentioned, we add the temple of Tivoli, the amphitheatre and gates of Verona, and two or three triumphal arches, we shall find little more than tottering walls and masses of brick. Ruins, till the revival of taste in the fifteenth century, were considered as quarries furnishing materials to those who chose to employ them: and unfortunately many did employ them with little or no regard to their ancient fame, their costly workmanship, or their fair proportions. When Belisarius turned the tomb of Adrian into a fortress, he paid little attention to the masterpieces of sculpture that adorned its circumference, and it is said that, on that occasion,

the sleeping Faun pleaded in vain the beauty of his limbs and the grace of his attitude. Whatever obstructed the machinery was tumbled to the ground; whatever was fit for defence was worked into the rampart. In short, first war, then convenience, and lastly, Taste itself directed by self-love destroyed or defaced the works of ancient art, and either left no marks of their existence behind, or reduced them to a mere dislocated skeleton. The traveller, therefore, must not be sanguine in his expectations of satisfaction from the first appearance of ruins in general, but content himself with the certainty of finding, amid numberless uninteresting masses that bear that name, some few beautiful specimens, as well as some grand monuments of Roman magnificence.

CHURCHES.

Modern edifices next claim our attention, and among them the principal are churches, particularly cathedrals. Many of the latter are indeed very noble piles, and either externally or internally present striking instances of architectural beauty. Even where there is no display of architecture, there is generally a richness of materials, a profusion of marble, and not unfrequently a luxuriancy of sculpture and painting that delights and surprises the transalpine spectator. There is also in every cathedral a chapel of the Holy Sacrament, which is almost universally of exquisite workmanship and of splendid decorations. Some