of literature. As early as in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries it was distinguished by the writings of Vigio Maffei, the Cardinal Bernardin, Raphael, and Pietro; but it was reserved for Francis Scipio, marquis of that name, and whose tomb I this day visited, to render it still more honourably known. There is something peculiarly interesting in the life of this nobleman, whose first display of talent was evinced in maintaining a thesis on love, when, as should ever be the case, women were the umpires. Not less brave than courteous, Maffei distinguished himself by great valour at the battle of Donawert; after which, he wrote a clever essay on duelling. Subsequently he gave to the world his tragedy of "Merope," and his comedy entitled "Ceremonia;" the fine tact and purity of language of which so justly entitled them to general admiration. Though he travelled into France, England, and Germany, receiving in all these countries the courtesy due to his merit, he preferred his native town to all other places; and ceased not until his death to enrich it by his gifts, and to do honour to it by his writings. He presented to Verona his collection of antiquities, which now bears his name; and never are the curious and interesting objects this

museum contains shown to strangers, without the donor's name being pronounced with affectionate

reverence.

Saw the libraries of Verona and the chapter to-day. The first, being of recent date, has nothing either rare or curious to recommend it, but the second is rich in valuable books and manuscripts. This library contains no less than fifteen hundred manuscripts in Greek and Latin; some of them of as ancient a date as the fourth and fifth centuries, awaiting the patient researches of a scholar, like Petrarch, who here found the letters of Cicero to his friends; or of a second Niebuhr, who discovered here the Commentaries on the Institutes of Gaius, since published in Prussia.

One cannot look on even the exterior of these manuscripts without a feeling of reverence; or without anticipating the advantage to literature which is yet to be derived from a strict examination of them.

Were I to enumerate all the churches, and the pictures contained in them, which I have seen here, the catalogue would be endless; I will, therefore, only notice the Pellegrini Chapel, which reflects great credit on San Michele, being a beautiful specimen of his taste and skill.

DESENSANO. The route from Verona to this place is very pleasant, particularly that portion of it which is parallel with the Lago di Garda, the ancient Benacus; whose beauty justifies the praise bestowed on it by Virgil, and the selection of its promontory, Sirmio, by Catullus for his residence. The country is richly cultivated, and presents gentle hills crowned by churches and villages: while to the north, the Alps rise majestically, forming a back ground to the picture.

The fortress Peschieri has an imposing effect, and seemed well garrisoned, if I may judge by the number of soldiers, not only on duty as sentinels, but loitering about. From Peschieri the promontories of Sirmio and Minerbo look exceedingly well, and tempt one to a nearer approach: but alas! I have loitered so long at Venice and Verona, that I cannot explore the site of the dwelling of Catullus, which he has immortalized by his descriptions, and which all travellers unite in representing as one of the spots most favoured by nature in Italy.

The Lago di Garda is a miniature sea, green and transparent as the waters of Lake Leman; and even now, as I gaze on it from the window of the inn whose walls it bathes, and when not a breath of wind agitates its glassy surface, I can

imagine the realization of our host's assertion, that when a sudden squall occurs, it is lashed into fury, and the tranquil water rises into huge waves, that rush towards the shore with an impetuosity and tumult quite astounding.

Nothing can be more agreeable than the position of this inn, and the accommodation and cuisine are very tolerable; so that one might remain long enough to explore the beauties of the environs, and they are many, without being either ill-lodged or half-starved; annoyances too frequently encountered where fine scenery or interesting objects tempt one to sojourn.

The river Mincio (fed by the Lago di Garda) partakes of its pellucid qualities, for it is as clear and sparkling as crystal, and rolls on as swiftly as does time to the happy, passing rapidly along its pleasant banks, with a murmuring sound soothing as music to the ear. Virgil has not overpraised the Mincio and its shores; and even now this portion of Italy is among the most attractive spots that court the traveller to tarry. No wonder, then, that it inspired so many poets-for not less than seven have sung its beauties.

I confess that I feel none of the enthusiasm experienced by many for the memory of Catullus,

the merit of whose verses, tuneful though they be, cannot redeem the gross sensuality for ever pervading them. Nor can I forget that he was content to pass away his life in a state of supine self-indulgence, dependent on the generosity of a patron, not always commensurate with his necessities or expectations; and against whose want of liberality the poet more than hints when he refers to his own poverty.

Times are changed, and happily too, for poets; no longer do they need any patron but the public, that most generous and impartial of all, who never refuses to encourage merit, and to reward genius; and no more can they with impunity outrage decency, and corrupt morals, by indulging in a licentiousness that no genius can redeem.

It is strange, that while the public press exercises so strict and salutary a censorship over the works of modern authors, and that good taste, and good morals, preclude aught approaching to indecency from being published, boys at school are taught to read those Latin poets, in whose works abound passages calculated to impress a knowledge of vicious pleasures, if not to give a taste for them; while the juvenile mind is in its most ductile state, ere reason has sufficiently ripened to check the evil, and when such impressions are most likely to be indelible.