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del Signor Conte, &c. With regard to the history of the place, he can tell us only that it was built by a band of Syracusan patriots, who, to avoid the tyranical sway of Dionysius, settled here B. c. 400. It was supposed to be, like Paphos, a favourite resort of Venus; and there was once a temple here, dedicated to her. Of the terrible sieges Ancona has sustained, history has often been eloquent; and the place seems so strongly fortified by nature, that I should think famine alone could reduce it.

And now that I have told you all I know of this place, I will give you a few words,-do not be alarmed,—only a few, touching those we passed through on our route hither. At Bologna, we heard, of course, Rossini's music performed by five blind musicians, visited Rossini's house, - ate Bologna sausages, and slept under domed roofs, ornamented with carved work and paintings. We also visited, as a matter of course, the church, in which Charles the Fifth was crowned; looked at Cassini's meridian, traced on the pavement; and stared, as all orthodox travellers are bound to stare, at the leaning tower. But the Academy!-oh yes, it does one good to gaze on the gems of art, to commune, as it were, with them, who, little valued, perhaps, by their contemporaries, are now the world's wonder and delight. We look not only on lovely and graceful forms, but we have an insight also into the mind of the artist; we revel also in the love-haunted solitude of Raphael; acquire new ideas of grace and tenderness from the Magdalenes of Guercino; and look on the sublime conception of Guido Reni as embodied in the Crucifixion, with strange mingled feelings of reverence and

love, and sorrow; which, it may be, we have never before experienced. And can we come forth again into the world with thoughts as frivolous, and hearts as cold as heretofore? Ah no, for awhile, at least, the impression lasts; though, like all the sweet influences of our better nature, which visit us in dreams and in hours of lonely musing,-it fades too soon


As we travelled on from Bologna to Cesena, all the statues, marble steps, and columns were well matted to preserve them from the cold, which made them look odd enough. The increase of beggars and thieves to be remarked in the pope's dominions is really surprising, in spite of the pope's summary mode of executing justice. Two who robbed the English mail last week, on the road between Rimini and Ancona, were taken, beheaded, and their heads were stuck on the trees by the highway,--not a very pretty prospect from the carriage window! Cesena is famous for a yearly fair, and the road was lined with peasantry flocking thither. Their dresses were always picturesque, sometimes quite elegant. Boddices of all colours, neatly laced and embroidered up the front; petticoats yellow, blue, or red; a veil gracefully thrown over the head and bust, and a gold cross fastened to a black velvet, composed their attire. Some were on foot, others riding, laden with fowls, eggs, &c., and even with articles of household furniture; now and then the procession was varied by a cart, or by one of the little selfish car-like vehicles, just large enough to hold one person-a fierce-looking, mustachioed, and cloaked personage of the higher class, whose dignity, however, does not deter an old woman occasionally

from jumping up behind, and clinging, like a cat to a cage, awhile for the sake of a lift. Then came waggons laden with thieves, and guarded by gens-d'armes ; -though manacled and linked together, they looked perfectly indifferent; nay, some of them were singing, and laughed and held out their hands for alms. as we passed, although they are condemned to the galleys for life. We were all glad when they had passed, and then came the interesting little republic of S. Marini. Marin was a mason, who, in the third century, busied himself for twenty-eight years in repairing the port of Rimini. At the end of that time, he retired to a mountain solitude, and practised the devotion, though not the austerities of a hermit. His fame spread abroad; the princess to whom the territory belonged, gave him the mountain as a domain for ever, and Marin, instead of building a convent, became the founder of a flourishing little republic. The mount is about six miles round; the city is built on the summit, and contains about five thousand inhabitants: it contains also, three castles, three convents, and five churches. The city is often enveloped in snow, while the inhabitants in the plains beneath are suffering from heat. Nevertheless, they have good vines. The city is accessible only by one winding road: the laws prohibiting strangers, and even inhabitants from entering by any other way, are very strict. The history of this little mountain-stronghold, offers neither brilliant conquest nor advance in civilization: fifteen centuries have passed over the heads of these children of seclusion, and have left them as simple, as ignorant, and happy, as they were in the days of

Marin! They have enjoyed fifteen ages of peace, of content, and of liberty, while every other state in Europe, has undergone more or less of change.

At Rimini, we passed under an old arch with broken pillars, dedicated to Augustus Cæsar. Rimini is the Ariminium of Roman history, and was the first town that beheld Cæsar in arms against his country. After haranguing his troops on the banks of the Rubicon, he rushed forward, and at day-break appeared, surrounded with his cohorts in the forum at Rimini. Rimini is now but an irregular dirtylooking Italian village; yet some of us looked on it with feelings of interest, almost as deep as would have been called forth by imperial Rome herself. Cæsar and the Rubicon! Why, there is a power in the names to consecrate, which would invest with dignity the veriest brook,-the veriest hamlet in Italy! We sought, but, alas! in vain, for traces of the castle in which Francesca,-Danté's sweet Francesca,--lived and loved; not a stone of the abode could be identified, as having been her father's residence. However, Harry sketched an old fierce looking fortress castle, anciently inhabited by the feudal lords of Rimini, and declares he will show it in England, to all his sentimental young lady-friends, and swear with as good a grace as he can, that it has been hallowed by the presence of the poet, and of his patron's fair daughter.

Ravenna, too, ancient and dismantled as it is, was to us all redolent of beauty and poetry. At Ravenna Danté was sheltered by Guido Novello, and at Ravenna Danté died; at Ravenna, Danté's daughter, Beatrice, so named after his first love, took the veil

in the convent of St. Stephano del' Uliva, and in the same place Danté was buried. Guido, who had protected him in life, pronounced, himself, his funeral oration after his death, and well has his faithful friendship been requited. If there be aught worth possession in fame, Guido's daughter has come down to us, a sweet yet melancholy picture, enshrined in immortal verse. He, who had known the fair creature, blooming in innocence and gaiety beneath her father's roof, touched her errors, but touched them so slightly only, as to add the charm of sorrow to that of admiration,-to make us forget our censure in our tears.

Ravenna! In the pine woods of Ravenna Boccacio lingered, and there he imagined that fanciful tale of the spirit-lover, who frightened the daughter of the Traversari into matrimony, almost against her will. It is a wild fiction, that of Guido, and her whose beauty and cruelty caused his death: nevertheless, it invested the dark forest with an interest of its own, and some among us there were who bent so attentive an ear, as we skirted along in the pale moonlight, that almost we fancied to hear the hoarse sounds of the hounds baying, and the fugitives shrieking in the distance.

At last, after a few days of great bustle, and twɔ of perfect idleness, during which all our luggage was embarked, and our only amusement was watching the same, a fair wind arose and we set sail. I can give you but a faint idea of our first day on the wide waters; it was a new scene to us all, excepting St.

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