greater number, and many of them master-pieces of art, have been transferred to Munich.

The Giusti Palace is converted into a barrack for the Austrian soldiers; and in its gallery, on the walls of which once glowed some of the finest pictures in Italy, may now be seen the rude cyphers, and still more rude sketches in charcoal of the soldiers; and on its floor, where walked dainty dames and admiring connoisseurs, now pace the rough-shod Austrians and their helpmates. How would the once proud owners start with surprise and indignation, could they behold the change in their princely dwellings but among the tortures menaced to be endured in another world, that of knowing what passes in this is not included, and which, in some cases, might not be the least bitter.

I have been again making a tour of palaces to-day; and was much pleased with the Guasta Verza by San Michele. The Gran Guardia Palace is of vast dimensions, and is by some asserted to have been erected by San Michele, while others maintain it to have been built by one of his relatives; with which opinion I am disposed to coincide, for though an imposing pile of building, it wants the perfect proportion and fitness. which characterises his style, and of which the Porta del Palio is a very happy specimen.

The cathedral, which we saw to-day, is more curious than beautiful; over its door are allegorical effigies of three queens who assisted its foundation, the mother, wife, and daughter of Charlemagne, who are represented as Faith, Hope, and Charity. In front of the entrance are two figures standing on gothic pilasters, covered with a most heterogeneous number of grotesque ornaments. These personages have twisted mustachios, wear armour, and carry drawn swords; which formidable appendages give them a very grim and fierce appearance. We looked with interest at the tomb of the Archdeacon Pacifico, who wrote the first commentary on the Bible; a fact noted in the epitaph inscribed on his monument, with the less meritorious one of his invention of a clock to strike in the night, as also of his having had a handsome face.

There are some other monuments in the cathedral, and among them that of Pope Lucius III., who, expelled from Rome, died at Verona; but an antique tomb, placed in the chapel of the Madonna del Popolo, is the most curious. It was erected to his wife, by a certain Julius Apollonius, but after

wards received the remains of St. Theodore, Bishop of Verona, which entitles it to its present emplacement. How the pious executors of the saint could reconcile themselves to the profanation of placing his sanctified body where that of a pagan had reposed, seems more difficult to be accounted for, than that they should have taken possession of the property of the dead; but the Catholic clergy here, like the rest of their brethren in Italy, have never been fastidious about appropriating the works of antiquity, and converting them to their own uses.

The monument erected by Verona, to Francesco Bianchi, is honourable to the town as well as to him. He was a universal genius, but unlike the generality of those to whom such various powers of mind are attributed, he was nearly as remarkable for his freedom from pretensions and for his amiability, as for the acquirements that rendered him so distinguished.

The church of St. Zeno is a stately pile, but very sombre in the interior. It contains some good pictures by Montegna, and a statue in red marble of the patron of the church, more resembling a half intoxicated satyr than a saint. A tomb was shown to us as that of King. Pepin, the son of Charlemagne, but this story, notwithstanding that it is supported by an inscription, is said to be wholly unfounded.

Though nearly tired of inspecting churches, and their multiplicity here rendering their examination a labour, not of love, I could not leave unseen that of St. Helena; in which Dante maintained a thesis in presence of a numerous audience, and on a subject wholly apart from those supposed to engross his thoughts, namely, on the two elements land and water.* I pictured to myself the severe but intellectual countenance of Il padre Alighieri, as surrounded by the learned Veronese of his day, he proved to them that he could do other things as well as write fine poetry.

The inscription on the monument of Leonardo Montagna, a Veronese, in this church, struck me as being peculiarly touching

Naufragus hinc fugio; Christum sequor: Is mihi solus

Sit dux, sitque comes, sitque perenne bonum.

The church of St. Anastasia, erected in the time of the Sca

This thesis was printed at Venice in 1518, and entitled, "De Duobus Elementis Terræ et Aquæ."

ligers, bears evidence of the magnificence that marked that epoch; and contains a very fine monument of Fregose, a general in the Venetian service, raised by his son, and the work of Cattaneo.

Until I visited Verona, I was not fully aware of the merit of the school of painting to which it gives its name. Many of the pictures are excellent, and would not lose by a comparison with those by more celebrated masters.

Our cicerone would insist on conducting us to the Santa Maria della Scala, built in consequence of a vow by Cane I., and he evinced such anxiety that we should visit it, that there was no refusing his entreaties, as he urged two inducements; first, that in an ancient fresco we should see portraits of Alberto and Martino della Scala; and, secondly, that we should behold the tomb of Maffei, whose works have afforded me too much instruction and pleasure, not to make me desirous of viewing his last earthly resting-place.

Maffei deserved well of Verona, for to a patriotic love of it, which led him to invest it with all the interest which an historian, who writes con amore, can bestow, he brought to the task an erudition in antiquarian lore, and a poetical mind, the happy union of which enabled him admirably to illustrate his subject.

The name of Maffei is well known in the history of litera⚫ture. 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 immortalised 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 realisation 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