some imaginary to their many real 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 neighborhood 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 Poestum, 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 Poestum, 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 d rected 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 at

tention, and among them the pria-.