but most efficient teachings of those three happy influences, painting, sculpture and architecture, seem here combined for the most felicitous ends. I could not but often think of it as one of those consoling and redeeming things, which modify all the evil in the world, that these were places dedicated to Catholicism, but open to all and at all times;places for reflection, devotion and thought, where one can wander contemplatively, the painted windows imparting a mellow light in which the pictured and sculptured forms seemed living things, and the notes of the chanters falling in reverberated echoes upon the ear, and worship after his own heart, or muse holily till the fire burns. CAPUCHIN CONVENT. It was on a day marked by that deep azure, that seemingly penetrable density of the sky, so often celebrated by poets as the most enchanting natural feature of southern Italy, that we were early on our way to the Esquiline hill. Upon its summit stands, in comparative solitude, the church of St. Pietro in Vinculi, built to contain the chains of the great apostle whose name it bears. The effect ever derivable from simplicity, is signally exemplified upon entering this chaste building; for its interior architecture opens at once upon the vision, and, in its simple grandeur, imparts a far more delightful impression, than is often obtained from more extensive and gorgeous constructions. The form of the Basilica is here admirably preserved, the arched roof being supported by two rows of beautiful columns, and the whole space unbroken by any intermediate arches. These columns, as well as the pavement of the sacristy, were originally obtained from the baths of Titus; the former are remarkably impregnated with sulphate of lime, so as to emit a sulphurous odour when slightly rubbed. Behind the altar is a richly wrought marble chair, probably a consular seat, obtained from the same ruins; the idea that Cicero might once have occupied it, occurred to us, and increased the interest with which we viewed so pleasing and authentic a Roman relic. Most of the pictures and frescos are illustrative of St. Peter's imprisonment and angelic enfranchisement; and within two brazen and embossed doors, are preserved the sacred fetters, which are exposed to view only once a year. But the grand attraction which had drawn us to this church was a renowned work of art-the statue of Moses by Michael Angelo. This collossal figure at once evinces the workmanship of a peculiar genius, the design differing wholly from what is familiar in statuary. There is a muscular power, a grandeur of outline, which sufficiently indicate the author. Indignation and awful energy are distinctly discernible in the heavy frown and stern expression of God's chosen messenger to a guilty and erring people. The Capuchin convent-an example of another class of churches-imparts a very tolerable idea of the dreariness and sternness of a genuine monastic retreat. The lay brother who conducted us looked wonderfully thriving, and was withal surprisingly affable for an old denizen of the damp and gloomy apartments which he so complacently displayed. The church, though by no means magnificent, contains two frescos of great interest:-one representing the archangel Michael triumphing over Satan, whose dark brawny form seems completely subdued beneath the light foot of his beautiful conqueror; the other, a rough representation of St. Peter walking on the waves—one of the most ancient examples of this species of painting. Indeed this convent is many centuries old, and the very hue and primitive material of the Capuchin garb comport admirably with the antique appearance of the whole building and its contents. But the greatest peculiarity is the cemetery beneath. A number of arches extend some distance, against the walls of which are piled an immense number of the bones of the deceased Capuchins. In spaces left about mid-way, are stretched skeletons, clad in the habit of the order, and others stand in various parts of the awful repository, while the ground, composed of 'holy earth,' transported at great expense from Jerusalem, is marked as the last resting-place of the later dead. The very lamps which hang from the walls, are composed of bones, and the same material, distributed most fantastically, furnishes meet accompanying ornaments. Perhaps this kind of burial, if such it may be called, is one of the rarest in practice by moderns. The effect by torch-light, when an interment takes place, must be impressive in the extreme; though with the broad light of day shining through the windows, the scene seemed more hideous than morally striking; nor can one easily feel that the intended honour is conferred upon the unbroken skeletons, by per |