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correct taste, with all the advantages which the galleries and schools of Italy can afford. In my opinion the day is not distant, if it has not already arrived, when the productions of his chisel will rival those of his illustrious predecessor. He possesses both the genius and industry, to reach the highest eminence in his profession.

In the afternoon I visited the Palazzo Borghese, the largest and one of the most magnificent palaces in Rome. It is situated on the left bank of the Tiber, above the bridge of St. Angelo. The porticos in the rear overhang and look out upon the river. A lofty and noble front ranges along the street. The apartments are both numerous and spacious. Some of them are extremely rich in decorations. The vaulted ceilings are highly gilt. Sheets of mirrors are halfcovered with Cupids and wreaths of flowers. But a choice collection of paintings furnishes the strongest attraction. The walls of ten rooms are entirely covered with some of the rarest pictures of the first artists. It would be difficult to find a gallery, which contains a greater variety, or a more select assortment of paintings. Yet there is no tenant in the palace to enjoy them. Paulina, the sister of Napoleon, has gone to the tomb, and Prince Borghese, her husband, is a wanderer in France and England, leaving his Italian villas and palaces behind.

After dinner we made an excursion to Mons Sacer, whither the plebeian multitude retreated in rebellion, and gave origin to the office of Tribune. It is several miles from Rome, on the right bank of the Anio, in the depth of the Campagna. The only person we saw, after leaving the gates of the city, was an old man clad in goat-skins, with the hairy side out. He looked himself like one of the beasts of his charge, bearing a striking similitude to Pan and the fabled Satyrs. He has a rude hut by the margin of the headlong stream, and appears to live entirely alone. The hill, so renowned in history, is a green swell of moderate elevation, rising like a tumulus on the waste. We here witnessed one of the most splendid sunsets I ever beheld, transcending the boldest and richest tints of the pencil. The west was in a blaze of glory, and imparted to the clouds and to the distant mountains the most gorgeous hues of crimson, purple, and gold.

In the evening we went to the chapel of Capuchins, to witness the initiatory step towards making a new saint and entering him in the calendar. The whole process occupied

hree days, or more properly three nights; for all the exerises took place by candle-light, when it is much easier to make a great show than in the glare of sunshine. We found n immense multitude assembled to witness the ceremonies, which in themselves amount to nothing. The church, the quares, and the streets in the vicinity were brilliantly illumiated, and thronged to overflowing with both sexes in their est dresses. It was indeed a splendid spectacle. A rude mage of the Saint was suspended over the high altar, with a ircle of brass wire to form the rays of a glory about his ead. A congregation of monks and priests, in their sacerotal robes, gathered round the brilliant shrine and joined in igh mass, after which some exquisite pieces of music were erformed in the finest style.

I have now an image of this saint upon my table, struck ff for the occasion, on a small duodecimo leaf, with the rayer to be offered to him on the opposite page. He was anonized under the appellation of Beato Angelo d'Acri, nd seems to have been a missionary some two or three undred years ago. He is represented in the guise of a onk, wearing a long beard, a coarse robe, with a girdle bout his loins, a crucifix in his hand, and a death's head by is side. The supplication directed to be addressed to him egins with—“ Oh Beato Angelo, che foste cosi propizio a ostri divoti,” and concludes with an earnest prayer for his ntercession. I inquired in vain for the peculiar claims of his monk to a place in the calendar. It is a rule with the 'opes never to make a Saint of a person, with whose chaacter the world is acquainted, and until the events of his life ave become mere matter of tradition.

The act of canonization appeared to be a festival, rather han a solemn religious rite. There was no indication of eriousness in the audience. The street leading from the hurch to the Fountain of Trevi was kept in a blaze till nidnight, and was converted into the Corso of the evening. t was constantly thronged with belles and beaux, promenaling between these two points, occasionally pausing at the Fountain, to see the beams of a full moon and the glare of ariegated lamps reflected from the silver sheet of waters, oaming over a rocky bed. I rested upon the rim of the narble basin, watching alternately the beauty of the cascade and the gaiety of the crowd. Madame de Stael here lays he scene of one of the most highly wrought passages in

Corinne; and it is not improbable, that some of the Roman multitude this evening whispered sentiments as warm and vows as tender, as were breathed by her impassioned lovers.

On Sunday we went to St. Peter's to attend mass and hear the music. By the side of the road, beyond the ferry of the Ripetta, several men were observed seated upon the grass, playing cards for money. This was a novel scene to be witnessed on the Sabbath, in the capital of his Holiness. In Italy as well as in France, Sunday is the great day of amusement. The theatres are open and the public places crowded. Religious services are performed at morning and evening. The lower classes go to mass at an early hour, and the higher orders, at 11 or 12 o'clock. We found St. Peter's filled with people; but there was nothing peculiar in the ceremonies. In one of the chapels, half a dozen females were observed with a numerous group of pretty girls about them, engaged in a Sunday School. The peculiar doctrines of the Catholic faith are of course inculcated. I have one of the elementary books, put into the hands of children, now before me. It contains the catechism, and is full of what Protestants would call absurdities. The Catholic religion in Italy is essentially different from the same faith, as professed in the United States.

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In returning to St. Peter's, a great crowd was observed in one of the public squares, and on approaching, we found a young priest earnestly engaged in preaching to the multitude. was really eloquent, powerful in his elocution, and graceful in his gestures. His harangue appeared to be of a popular cast, adapted to a street audience. From some he drew tears and from others sighs. We remained till the close of the exercises, when the whole congregation kneeled upon the pavement, and received a parting benediction.

At evening we walked to the Coliseum, to attend another religious meeting. The exercises were just closing at the time of our arrival. Another orator had been holding forth to an assembly, which filled the arena. They were now all kneeling upon the green grass, before the shrines erected round the podium, engaged in saying vespers. Presently they rose, and marched out in procession, chanting an evening hymn. A society of monks, in brown dominos girt with a cord, bearing the cross and lighted tapers, led the way. The scene was full of interest, associated as the ceremonies were with such a locality. The splendour of a full moon induced

us to linger about the ruin to a late hour, watching its varying - aspects, and musing in its desolate arches. There is a charming walk upon the brow of the Cœlian Hill, bordered with parterres of bright flowers, shaded with young elms, and furnished with embowered seats. It is within a hundred paces of the Coliseum, and commands a perfect view of the exterior.

On the 19th I visited the Palazzo Spada, a monstrous, half-deserted palace, surrounding spacious quadrangular courts, with niches above, occupied by gods and saints. The most interesting work in the palace, and the principal object of my visit, is a colossal statue of Pompey, at the base of which Cæsar fell. There is some doubt as to its identity, and the authenticity of the tradition. It is said to have been found in a vault under a street, in the vicinity of Pompey's Forum. At all events, it is a statue of some merit, representing a warrior in an imposing attitude, with a fine exhibition of muscles. His right arm is outstretched; in his left hand he holds a globe; and a sword hangs at his side. I could perceive no reason why it might not be the conqueror of the East.

From the Spada palace, I went to the Palazzo Farnese, in the same neighbourhood. It is an immense pile, the materials of which were drawn from the Coliseum, that exhautless quarry whence many of the embellishments of modern Rome have been derived. The barbarous act of plunder is not redeemed by the magnificence of the palace, although its exterior surpasses in loftiness and architectural grandeur any similar edifice in the city. It is three stories high; the first of the Doric, the second of the Ionic, and the third of the Corinthian order. The frieze is particu larly admired for its elegance. On the public square in front are two basins of granite, of an oval form, seven feet in diameter, and four or five in depth. They were found in the baths of Caracalla, and are now used as the reservoirs of two copious fountains.

In the court I found the sarcophagus of Cecilia Metella, from her tomb on the Appian Way. It is composition, encrusted with Parian marble, sculptured with the heads of animals. It is capacious enough to hold all the Patrician ashes of ancient Rome. Climbing a noble flight of stairs, I examined the celebrated frescos of Annibal Caracci. This enormous palace, in which a small family might easily be lost,

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and the saloons of which are silent and cheerless, is at pre sent occupied by the Neapolitan minister to the Papal Court. In the afternoon I walked to the Villa Borghese, which is without the walls of the city, spreading northerly from the base of the Pincian Hill. It is three miles in circumference, embracing a park, somewhat in the English style, the woods, walks, fountains, and other embellishments of which, display much taste in rural scenery, furnishing a striking contrast to ordinary Italian gardens. The pine, ilex, and elm, are among the most conspicuous trees. Broad avenues for carriages are laid out in all directions, which are open to the public, and form a charming drive. Just beyond the entrance, two vistas open at right angles, at the extremities of which, are Grecian temples, forming beautiful terminations. Statues, fountains, and pavilions, fill the woods.

I trod most of the umbrageous paths, and at length came to the principal lodge, which is lost among the trees. It is a noble edifice filled with the works of art. Numerous saloons open into a spacious hall, forming the vestibule, the vaulted roof of which is highly embellished. On the wall, facing the front door, is the celebrated equestrian statue, in alto-relievo, of Curtius, leaping into the gulf which opened. in the Roman Forum.

In the evening we went to see the Pope give the finishing touch to his new saint. At 8 o'clock he brushed along through the congregated multitude, blessing the people as he passed, who all prostrated themselves upon the pavement. Prayers were said, and hymns of beatification sung. The whole front of the church, and the streets in the vicinity, were brilliantly illuminated. At the conclusion of the cere monies, a splendid volley of fire-works was let off, on the square in front of the chapel; and the modern saint, like the ancient prophet, might be said to have ascended in a chariot of flame. The nocturnal festival was prolonged to a late hour. Houses hung with banners of crimson, and balconies filled with circles of Roman beauty, certainly presented a brilliant spectacle.

While we were at breakfast next morning, word came that the church of the Capuchins was burnt down, from the illumination of the night previous. Here was a most ominous and unlucky occurrence, as well for his Holiness as his Saintship. Although Beato Angelo could work other miracles, and excite celestial flames, he could not use the bucket and

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