this a mastic, or cementing paste, is gradually spread, as the progress of the work makes it wanted, which forms the adhesive ground, or bed, on which the mosaic is laid. This mastic is composed of lime burnt from marble, and finely powdered Travertine stone, mixed to the consistence of a strong paste, with linseed oil. Into this paste are stuck the smalts (smalti,) of which the mosaic picture is formed. They are a species of opake vitrified glass, partaking of the mixed nature of stone and glass, and composed of a variety of minerals and materials, coloured, for the most part, with different metallic oxyds. Of these, no less than seventeen hundred different shades are in use; they are manufactured in Rome in the form of long slender rods like wires, of different degrees of thickness, and are cut into pieces of the requisite sizes, from the smallest pin point to an inch. When the picture is completely finished, and the cement, thoroughly dried, it is highly polished.

This mosaic work, during the two years that I have known Rome, seems to proceed in that creeping indolent manner in which all undertakings go on here, if they go on at all. Few workmen are employed, and those work little. This manufactory now, in all the world, exists only in Rome; for the establishment in Milan, founded by the French, has fallen with them, and its immediate abolition is decreed by the Austrian govern

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Mosaic, though an ancient art, is not merely a revived, but an improved one; for the Romans

only used coloured marbles, or natural stones, în its composition, which admitted of comparatively little variety; but the invention of smalts has given it a far wider range, and made the imitation of painting far closer.

The mosaic work at Florence is totally different to this, being merely inlaying in pietre dure, or natural precious stones, of every variety, which forms beautiful, and very costly imitations of shells, flowers, figures, &c, but bears no similitude to painting.

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Besides this government establishment at Rome, there are hundreds of artists, or artisans, who car ry on the manufactory of mosaics on a small scale. Snuff-boxes, rings, necklaces, broaches, ear-rings, &c., are made in immense quantity'; and since the English flocked in such numbers to Rome, all the streets leading to the Piazza di Spagna, are lined with the shops of these Musaicisti, &c.

Oriental shells are made at Rome into beautiful cameos, by the white outer surface being cut away upon the deeper coloured internal part, forming figures in minute bassi rilievi. The subjects are chiefly taken from ancient gems, and sometimes from sculpture and painting. The shells used for this purpose are chiefly brought from the Levant. The most celebrated artist in this curious branch of art, which is peculiar to Rome, is Dies. These shell cameos make remarkably beautiful ornaments.

The modern gems of the Pichlers, Natali, &c., are so well known, and so nearly approach to the perfection of the best Grecian ones, that I need

say nothing in their praise. Though these celebrated artists are now dead, many of the living ones at Rome, are little inferior to them, both in cameo and intaglio. Their subjects are sometimes taken from the paintings of great masters; but more frequently from ancient or modern sculpture. Besides those, hundreds of artists find support at Rome, in making casts, sulphurs, &c., from ancient gems and medals, and in selling or fabricating antiques. Marble and stone-cutting, are also beautifully executed both at Rome and Florence.

If the fine arts prosper in Rome, the useful arts are in a woefully degenerate state. The poor, useless, unworkmanlike style in which every thing of common life, every handicraft trade, is got through here, strikes one with much surprise. It is very bad, even compared to France, and what a contrast to England! Even jewellery is miserably finished here. Except in Paris, or in London, you will meet with no handsome work in gold and silver, or see one handsome jeweller's shop.

LETTER XC.

HADRIAN'S VILLA.

We left Rome this morning for Tivoli, by the Porta San Lorenzo. Three miles from it we crossed the Ponte Mammolo, over the Anio, or Teve-' rone, whose sleepy course is here unconscious of beauty, and proceeded through the dreary waste of the Campagna, for ten long miles further, without meeting any passengers-excepting two or three beggars or seeing a single sign of human habitation or of life;-though mementoes of death in abundance stared us in the face; for, besides the ruined tombs, black crosses by the way-side marked the frequent spots where murder had been committed. Artificial caves, hollowed out in the soft pozzolana rock, that bounded the road, were pointed out to us as the frequent lurking-place of assassins. So poor, however, and so few, seem to be the passengers between Rome and Tivoli, that I should suppose these murderers would get nothing but blood for their pains—and but little of that.

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Longing for some object to break the tedium of way, we looked out with great earnestness for

"the Lake of Tartarus," which we were to pass; but it was not from our eyes that we had the first indication of our approach to it; for we scented it from afar in such offensive effluvia, that every foul and foetid odour seemed congregated in one potent stench, which increased every moment till we passed the spot. Lake there is none. Excepting one muddy pool, the thick viscid waters are dried up, or encrusted with a hard uneven substance, of an arid yellow colour, on which patches of stunted bushes were growing. The wide extent of this hideous crust, marked the ancient surface of "the Tartareous Lake." Reeds, roots of plants, all things of vegetable kind that grow near it, are rapidly changed, by its petrifying quality, into stone. The masses of rock all round it are of this curious fibrous texture. Near this dismal lake stands a ruined Gothic fortress, called Castello Archione.

As we proceeded on our way, the fumes still continued to increase, till, at the distance of about two miles, we reached the artificial bed of a foul blue fluid, for I cannot call it water,-which flowed across the road, conducted from the celebrated sulphureous lake about a mile distant, to drain which it has been cut. In part it has succeeded, and besides, it is the nature of such waters to diminish, so that the ancient size of this lake is now greatly reduced. We left the carriage to walk to it, and on our way we picked up a bare-legged Cicerone, a poor goat-herd, who told us all he knew about it, and more. Arrived on the brink of the filthy flood, he embarked himself upon it on a little