me but little time to visit her public institutions-and especially her hospi tals. The Lunatic Asylum is on a large scale-receives all ranks of maniacs -and, I am sorry to say, is not in a state that can, honestly, admit of much praise. It is worth visiting, however; and the variety of characters that may here be seen, is well calculated to call forth strong emotions in the philanthropic breast. I was much amused one day, while going round the wards, by the conversation of a priest and an advocate, in whose sight I suddenly found much favour, without any adequate cause. They were MONOMANIACS of such a harmless description, that they were permitted to accompany me through the whole of the wards and cells of that great but dreary asylum. These two inmates of this gloomy retreat were men of considerable talents and learning. They described, in most affecting terms, the various maniacs who paced the wards in musing melancholy or muttering soliloquies, as well as those who clashed their chains in solitary confinement. Not a word escaped either of them, in the slightest degree indicative of a disordered mind, till we came to a man who fancied himself to be JESUS CHRIST. The Barrister made a full stop, and seized the writer by the arm. "Thank my stars," said he, glancing a look of ineffable contempt on the Priest, "I am free from those superstitious fears and visionary dreams by which the vulgar are kept in thraldom by designing knaves or ignorant enthusiasts! I worship the sun, the moon, the stars, the earth-in short, I worship NATURE, whatever form she may assume in the animal, vegetable, and mineral world around me, as well as in those orbs which shine resplendent in the heavens. I acknowledge no god but Nature."-At this moment, the Priest seized the other arm of the writer, and drew him forcibly aside, "You now see, Sir," said he, "that the unhappy and lost wretch who deals out this impious and atheistical creed is as complete a maniac as any of the numerous unfortunate beings whom we have been contemplating! He is otherwise harmless; but his words are pestilential when he touches on the subject of divine revelation. I am, Sir, the only individual in this vast asylum who is in his perfect senses. I am cruelly and unjustly confined here, and, as I see you are a physician, I hope you will exert your influence in rescuing me from the company of maniacs." The writer promised this exertion in the Priest's favour, but soon found that he too, had his delusion. CASCINI. The transition from the BEDLAM to the CASCINI of Florence is rather an abrupt one; but Italy is the land of vicissitudes. The Florentines pride themselves not a little on the beauty of the Cascini, a pleasant drive on the banks of the Arno, (but far from a safe one, either before or after sunset) which river they have wisely excluded from view by a row of trees. To those who are familiar with the parks of London, or the CHAMPS ELYSÉS of Paris, the CASCINI of Florence can have but few attractions. Nevertheless it possesses the secret, like the Indian snake-conjurors, of drawing forth the pale olive beauties and whiskered beaux of Florence every evening, from their gloomy retreats, to inhale the breath of Heaven-to cluster or swarm, like bees, at the sound of a tinkling cymbal-and to indulge in a dish of polite scandal or intrigue beneath the cloudless canopy of their azure skies. To England they have lately been indebted for a source of poignant excitement-the sight of JOHN BULL "running a muck" in the avenues of the Cascini. The half frozen energies of British nerves and muscles, human and equinine, thawed and effervescing under an Italian sun, must be a soul-stirring scene for the eyes of languid, listless, and lazy Tuscans. In grateful return for this excitement, the Florentines cannot do less than initiate our countrymen in the holy rites and ceremonies of the CAVALIERE SERVENTE System. FLORENCE TO ROME---SIENNA. It is difficult to select any line or circle of progression in Italy, where anticipation is not kept constantly alive by objects of increasing interest. The inexhaustible attractions of FLORENCE cannot suppress, even for a moment, the almost innate longing for a sight of ROME. While wandering among the ruins of the once mighty empress of empires, the scenes of desolation or degeneration which most of her seven hills present to the eye, and the languor and lassitude resulting from great exertion in the depressing atmosphere of the pestiferous Campagna, are cheered and relieved by the hope of soon breathing the balmy and exhilarating gales of ANXUR and NAPLES. Even when we have explored all the treasures of nature and art in this fairy land, and turned our weary steps to "home, sweet home "-the all-pervading principle that binds man and every species of animal to their native skies, strews our path with flowers, more mellow, but not less refreshing, than those which lured us beyond the circle of domestic happiness and social intercourse. The journey from Florence to Rome is accomplished pleasantly in four days -the resting places being Sienna, Radicofani, and Viterbo, where the accommodations are very passable at present. The scenery of the first day's journey is beautiful. We wind among vine and olive-clad hills-through peaceful villages and cultivated fields-over rapid and pellucid streamlets-along the skirts of fine woods-and under the genial influence of a clear sky and mountain air. As we approach Sienna, which lies very high, the scene changes; and sterility, at length, nearly usurps the place of Tuscan fertility. The city is built on the very edge of a long extinct volcanic crater, and a great part of it is down in the very bottom of this "Devil's punch-bowl." Having two hours of day remaining, I jumped from the carriage, without asking even the name of the hotel where we stopped, and wandered through the city. The first thing I stumbled on was the DUOMO-another huge Zebra in holy orders! The town itself is as dull, though not quite so dirty, as any Italian town need be, and the surrounding country bears, even to this hour, the features of volcanic conyulsion. The low hills are almost entirely composed of Tufa, or the ashes, mud, and water of some terrible eruption, agglutinated together; but worn into channels by the winter rains, or cracked and fissured by the summer heats, presenting altogether a dreary and desolate region, interspersed, however, with spots of beautiful verdure and cultivation. It is not easy to account for the taste of several English families in their selection of SIENNA for a residence of some years. The language, they say, is purely spoken there, and probably the expences are moderate; but to my apprehension it forms one of the most dull and dreary scenes that man could pitch upon for spending any material portion of his existence. The sirocco passing over the pestiferous Maremma, which is in the vicinity of Sienna, renders it doubtful in my mind, that Sienna can be very healthy-especially if Dr. Macculloch's assertion be true, that the annual mortality here, is I in 10 of the population! Such a tremendous wear and tear of life, however, must be a mistake. Having rambled about, without guide or direction till long after dark, fatigue, cold, and hunger reminded me of their antidotes—but I had taken no note, either of the street or the hotel where we had put up! Enquiry was therefore out of the question, and full an hour's labour was expended in the search for my companions. I should not have mentioned this trifling and ridiculous circumstance, but on account of what followed-and which often follows fatigue and exposure to the night air in Italy-especially in the Autumn. RADICOFANI---MALARIA. We started at day-break, and, as the sun rose, and indeed for two hours afterwards, the whole country presented the appearance of a placid lake, studded with small islands, each crowned with a town, village, convent, or castle. This phenomenon is occasioned by a dense fog, which covers the valleys, and looks like a sheet of water, leaving the tops of the hills free, and on which almost the whole of the towns, villages, &c. are built. The air was remarkably raw-and, about half-way between Sienna and Buono Convento, (a road where malaria notoriously prevails) I experienced the premonitory horrors of an ague-fit, and the first, or cold-stage of the "foul fiend." The fatigue and exhaustion of the preceding evening had doubtless predisposed me to this attack; and those who have felt the horrible depression of spirits attendant on an attack of malaria fever, can appreciate the feelings which rushed across my mind, under the expectancy of being laid up on the dreary mountain of RADICOFANI, with some serious or fatal malady! Fortunately the day became very hot-I walked up two or three of the steep hills on this road-passed at once from the stage of shivering to that of perspiration-and baulked the malaria of Buono Convento. The ascent to Radicofani is five tedious Italian miles. The evening was setting in, as we dragged our weary way up the mountain—the cold was intense-the scenery was that of desolation and despair. I shall allow a fair tourist to sketch it, as she has done so with spirit and truth. "From La Scala we toiled up apparently interminable hills, till at last,— contrary to my expectations, we reached the top of the wild and savage mountain of Radicofani. It was heaped with the tremendous ruins of Nature. All around, huge blue fragments of basaltic rock were strewed so thickly, as in most places wholly to conceal the surface of the earth. When exposed to view between these heaps of shattered rock, it was quite bare, and looked as if from creation it had never borne one blade of grass. Dark barren hills of stone, rising all around us, met our eye in every direction; it is impossible to conceive a more desolate scene. It seemed as if the beings that inhabited it must, of necessity, partake of its savage nature; and the aspect of those we saw well accorded with its character. The country-men were all clothed in shaggy sheep-skins, with the wool outside, rudely stitched together to serve as a covering to their bodies; and pieces of the same were tied about their thighs, partially concealing the ragged vestments they wore beneath. Their legs and feet were bare; and this savage attire gave a strange, wild effect to the dark eyes that glared at us from beneath their bushy and matted locks. Indeed, their whole appearance reminded us literally of wolves in sheep's clothing. The wintry blast howled around us in stormy gusts; but we braved its fury, though not without difficulty, in order to ascend to the town, or rather village, of Radicofani, which is considerably higher up the mountain than the road, and wholly inaccessible to a carriage. High above the town, and impending directly over it, rises an abrupt rock of most singular appearance, which has its base on the very summit of the mountain, and on the utmost pinnacle of which stands the Castle, or Fort, of Radicofani."* So loud did the tramontane winds howl through every chink and chamber of the dreary caravansera on this mountain, that I could not help regretting the removal of old Vulcan's smithery from a place where a blast of his forge would be so rich a treat to the shivering traveller. I had reason to know, however, that we were much better lodged than many of our companions. It is a general complaint that, in England, money is the god of our idolatry. If this be not also the case on the south side of the Alps, the Italians have very much regenerated since the time when "virtus post nummos," (honesty *Rome in the 19th Century, vol. i. p. 64. HOLY LAND. 113 after riches) was the motto among their Roman ancestors. I suspect the only improvement by the moderns is an abbreviation of the motto-“virtus”, being now deemed unnecessary, either before or after the acquisition of wealth. Let two travellers come to an Albergo in Italy, one preceded by his courier, the other under the guidance of a vetturino, and they will soon find that the mammon of unrighteousness has altars for his worship in other countries besides England! Gold cannot rekindle the extinct volcano of Radicafani ; but the sight of an English carriage can make the coldest apartment in its cheerless caravansera glow with fires almost Vulcanian-relax the features of the most grim-visaged hostess—and resuscitate from their silent graves the choicest spirits of the age. A descent of five miles on the south side of the mountain, brings us to the bed of a torrent, which, after heavy rains, is dangerous or impassable. This channel crossed, we tread on holy ground; and the face of Nature changes instantaneously. From being covered with the stony entrails of the nether world, vomited forth by subterranean fires, we find ourselves in the midst of fertility and cultivation. In fact, it is abundantly evident that the Pope's benediction stopped short at the torrent of Torricelli, and left the " savage mountain" of Radicafoni to its steril fate. It is strange that some travellers have represented the case as just the reverse. I appeal to ocular obser vation. AQUAPENDENTE. The ascent to AQUAPENDENTE is beautiful; but the moment we enter the town, we feel that the spiritual blessing of Christ's vicegerent is a temporal ćurse. Over earth and her natural productions the holy father's influence seems not to extend. On man and his works falls the withering blight! When we survey the squalid inhabitants of ecclesiastical towns, and the stinking tenements in which they are huddled together, we are almost tempted to imagine that the key of St. Peter, which is raised towards heaven from the summit of Trajan's pillar, had realized the transformations of Circe's rod Her circling wand the goddess waves, To hogs transforms them, and the sty receives. The CUSTOM-HOUSE is a pest-house-a petty quarantine station in all countries; but in this celestial empire, it is a veritable INQUISITION, where the secrets of the prison-house are sure to come out. Sir Hudson Lowe never inspected, with more minuteness, the dirty linen-baskets of Madame Montholon, than do the officers of the holy DOGANA overhaul the trunks, bandboxes and clothes-bags of undesigning passengers :-and for what?—lest the head of the Church should lose the duty on a pound of snuff! Verily His |