of "Ecclesiastical Polity" was indebted to him. The idea, if not the composition, of some of the Englishman's noblest passages may be found in the terse "Quæstiones" of the meditative Italian. How well Boccaccio wrote history! In poetry, what names of super-excellence! Dante had no original, and has found no followers, save that Milton, unapproachable alike, has nevertheless now and then taken a feather from his wing. Petrarch's chaplet is buried with him. Tasso is Virgil's true successor, and his "Aminta" is more clegant than the Eclogues. Perhaps Ariosto is the most genuine son of the Muses among them all.

Then, in fugitive pieces, what exquisite gems lie scattered over the pathway of their literature! Dante's Sonnet addressed to Beatrice when he was but thirteen; Filicaja's Lament, almost unmatched as yet in his own or any language; Manzoni's "Il cinque maggio," far superior in real merit to Byron's " Ode on Napoleon."

I have read but one Italian novel carefully through,-"I promessi Sposi,"-it is the "Vicar of Wakefield" of Italy, and whoever would become acquainted with the people, must study it. Now this work is in some respects beyond praise; yet

his countrymen scarcely think it worthy of Manzoni's powers; an Italian gentleman observed to me," It is good, but he could have done better." I scarce ever heard such a compliment to a writer's genius. In the drama, Italians have one great name, Alfieri, immensely inferior to Shakespeare, as who is not ? but is he inferior to Schiller?- Are there not in his "Oreste" and his "Saul" touches of nature, which come home to the heart with more power than the magnificent, but stilted paragraphs of the German? How exquisite is the pathos of the following scene, especially its concluding stanza! Orestes, in disguise, questions his mother:

For the same reason, because nature is beyond art, I think Silvio Pellico's "Prigioni" preferable to the compositions of the Frenchman's pet,-Lawrence Sternc.

Looking to more substantive matters, we should

thank Florence for our knowledge of architecture and hydrostatics; Pisa and Genoa, for the confidence of marine enterprise; Bologna, for jurisprudence; Padua, for medical and botanical researches. All Europe owes Italy a debt, though all have not profited equally.

In the department of music, England has reaped the richest harvest from this exuberant soil; partly owing to our wealth, but more, I think, to our social habits of domestic life; for it should never be forgotten that it is the fireside circle, and not clubs and cafés, which is truly social. Hence the French, who exist for "soirées" and "réunions," are less musical as a people. Even in Italy you will seldom hear the best music at "conversazioni ;" certainly not the most pleasing, scarcely ever what may be called a national air: these latter greet you on the quays and piazzas, in the fishermen's boats, or from some cottage on the Campagna. A few among the Neapolitan " canzonetti" of this description are pretty and plaintive; but they do not seem to me to touch so deep a chord as the simple airs of Scotland, or the Swiss "Ranz des Vâches."

The landscape scenery is perhaps the greatest

charm of Italy, and you do not surfeit of this as you easily may of objects of art. England is unquestionably a finer country on the whole, owing to its high cultivation; but Italy has far more of pictorial beauty; melting tints, receding distances, foregrounds of chiar'oscuro, such as Poussin loved. Romantic it is not, because beauty of the highest order is here, as it were, at home, and home has content, but not romance. Strange to say, there is more of romance in a German "wald," a Scotch glen, or an English heath, than in an Apennine or Umbrian landscape.

After Sicily, the scenes which have struck me most are the environs of Naples, and certain spots on the Campagna of Rome. In excursions, the great thing is to avoid making too long ones at a time. It is dangerous in this country to get tired out. An old peasant at Tivoli told me that in most cases it is "stanchezza" (weariness) which brings on the worst attacks of malaria, for your muscles are then unbraced, and you cannot resist a noxious influence [Note (h.)]. I have observed the Romans are on their guard in this respect; they will not journey far at one time, nor work long without taking rest. Under the burning

noonday sun, you will see the driver fast asleep on his ox-cart, while the team pursue their way over the broken roads of the Campagna. The wisest, however, dismount, unyoke the cattle, and lie down to sleep in the shadow of the cart.

PADUA.

End of May.

IIERE is the city of clocks and botanical gardens, with the wondrous church of St. Antonio, which boasts a dozen domes and half a dozen turretted spires. Seventeen thousand rare plants are now in the garden! In the chapel of Sta. Maria Annunziata we have just seen Giotto's frescoes covering two entire wainscots; these are in some respects superior to those in the vaulted roof at Assisi. One which represents the Resurrection is especially beautiful, and a Madonna suckling the child in a panel near the altar.

We took a new line of country from Rome hither, passing through Orvieto and Bologna, and then diverging from the usual track for the sake