of in Roman History-the course of the Tiber between the low hills that bound it, coming down from Fidenæ, and receiving the Allia and the Anio; beyond, the Apennines, the distant and higher sammits still quite white with snow; in front, the Alban Hills; on the right, the Campagna to the sea, and just beneath us the whole length of Rome, ancient and modern - St. Peter's and the Colosseum rising as the representatives of each-the Pantheon, the Aventine, the Quirinal, all the well known objects distinctly laid before us. One may safely say that the world cannot contain many views of such mingled beauty and interest as this.

6. From the Aventine we again visited the Colosseum, which I admired most exceedingly, but I cannot describe its effect. Then to the Church of St. John at the Lateran gate, before which stands the highest of the Egyptian obelisks, brought by Constantine to Rome. Near to this church also is the Scala Santa, or pretended staircase of Pilate's house at Jerusalem. It is cased with wood, and people may only ascend to it on their knees, as I saw several persons doing. Then we went to St. Maria Maggiore, to St. Maria dei Angeli at the baths of Diocletian, and from thence I was deposited again at I care very little for the sight of their all for the recollection of them. is, I think, the finest; and the form of the Greek cross at St. Maria dei Angeli is much better for these buildings than that of the Latin. But precious marbles, and precious stones, and gilding, and rich colouring, are to me like the kaleidoscope, and no more; and these churches are almost as inferior to ours, in my judgment, as their worship is to ours. I saw these two lines painted on the wall in the street to-day, near an image of the Virgin:

churches, and nothing at St. John at the Lateran

"Chi vuole in morte aver Gesu per Padre,

Onori in vita la sua Santa Madre."

I declare I do not know what name of abhorrence can be too strong for a religion which, holding the very bread

of life in its hands, thus feeds the people with poison. I say "the bread of life;" for in some things the indestructible virtue of Christ's Gospel breaks through all their pollutions of it, and I have seen frequent placards also; but printed papers, not printed on the walls, and therefore, perhaps, the work of some good individual. "Iddio ci vede. Eternita." This is a sort of seed scattered by the way side, which certainly would not have been found in heathen Rome.

7. . . . . . . I fear that our countrymen, and especially our unmarried countrymen, who live long abroad, are not in the best possible moral state, however much they may do in science and literature; which comes back to my old opinion that such pursuits will not do for a man's main business, and that they must be used in subordination to a clearly perceived Christian end, and looked upon as of most subordinate value, or else they become as fatal as absolute idleness. In fact, the house is spiritually empty, so long as the pearl of great price is not there, although it may be hung with all the decorations of earthly knowledge. But, in saying this, I do not allude to, but to a class; I heard him say nothing amiss, except negatively; and I have great reason to thank him for his civility. But it is so delightful to meet with a man like Bunsen, with whom I know that all is right, that perhaps the contrast of those with whom I cannot feel the same certainty, is the more striking..

8. We found the Savignys at home, and I had some considerable talk with Savigny about the Roman Law, which was satisfactory to me on this account, that I found that I knew enough of the subject to understand what its difficulties were, and that in conversing with the most profound master of the Roman Law in Europe, I found that I had been examining the right sources of information. He thought that the Tribes voted upon laws down to a late period of the Emperor's government.

Rome, May, 1827.

9. Lastly, we ascended to the top of the Colosseum, Bunsen leaving us at the door, to go home; and I seated myself with -, just above the main entrance, towards the Forum, and there took my farewell look over Rome. It was a delicious evening, and every thing was looking to advantage :-the huge Colosseum just under me,-the tufts of ilex and alitermus, and other shrubs that fringe the ruins everywhere in the lower parts, while the outside wall, with its top of gigantic stones, lifts itself high above, and seems like a mountain barrier of bare rock, inclosing a green and varied valley.—I sat and gazed upon the scene with an intense and mingled feeling. The world could show nothing grander: it was one which for years I had longed to see, and I was now looking at it for the last time. I do not think you will be jealous, dearest, if I confess that I could not take leave of it without something of regret. Even with you and our darlings, I would not live out of our dear country, to which I feel bound alike by every tie of duty and affection; and to be here a vagrant, without you, is certainly very far from happiness. Not for an instant would I prolong my absence from Laleham, yet still I feel, at leaving Rome, very differently from what I ever felt at leaving any other place not more endeared than this is by personal ties: and when I last see the dome of St. Peter's, I shall seem to be parting from more than a mere town full of curiosities, where the eye has been amused, and the intellect gratified. I never thought to have felt thus tenderly towards Rome; but the inexpressible solemnity and beauty of her ruined condition has quite bewitched me; and to the latest hour of my life I shall remember the Forum, the surrounding hills, and the magnificent Colosseum.

On the mountain side, above the Lake of Como, (second visit.)

May 19, 1827.

10. I am now seated, dearest M, very nearly in the same spot from which I took my sketch with in 1825; and I am very glad to be here again, for certainly the steam-boat had given no adequate impression of the beauties of this lake, and I did not wish to go away from it-admiring it less than I did the last time. But now, seated under its chestnut woods, and looking down upon its clear water, it appears as beautiful as ever. Again I see the white sails specking it, and the cliff running down. sheer into it, and the village of Tomo running out into it on its little peninsula, and Blevio nearer to me, and the houses sometimes lining the water's edge, and sometimes clustering up amidst the chestnuts. How strange to be sitting twice within two years in the same place, on the shores of an Italian lake, and to be twice describing the But now I feel to be taking a final

selfsame scenery. leave of it, and to be viewing the inexpressible beauty of these lakes for the last time. And I am fully satisfied ;for their images will remain for ever in my memory, and one has something else to do in life than to be for ever running about after objects to delight the eye or the intellect. "This, I say, brethren; the time is short;" and how much is to be done in that time! May God, who has given me so much enjoyment, give me grace to be duly active and zealous in His service; that I may make this relaxation really useful, and hallow it as His gift, through Christ Jesus. May I not be idle or selfish, or vainly romantic; but sober, watchful, diligent, and full of love to my brethren.

III.-TOUR IN GERMANY.

June 9, 1828.

1. Early this morning we left Aix, and came on to Cologne. The country, which about Aix is very pretty, soon

degenerates into great masses of table land, divided at long intervals by the valley of the Roer, in which is Juliers, or Julich, where we breakfasted, and that of the Ernst, in which is Bergheim. All this was dull enough, but the weather mean time was steadying and settling itself, and the distances were getting very clear, and at last our table land ended and sank down into a plain, and from the edge of it, as we began to descend, we burst upon the view of the valley of the Rhine, the city of Cologne, with all its towers, the Rhine itself distinctly seen at the distance of seven miles, the Seven Mountains above Bonn on our right, and a boundless sweep of the country beyond the Rhine in front of us. To be sure, it was a striking contrast to the first view of the valley of the Tiber from the mountain of Viterbo ; but the Rhine in mighty recollections will vie with any thing, and this spot was particularly striking: Cologne was Agrippa's colony, inhabited by Germans, brought from beyond the river, to live as the subjects of Rome; the river itself was the frontier of the Empire-the limit as it were of two worlds, that of Roman laws and customs, and that of German. Far before us lay the land of our Saxon and Teutonic forefathers-the land uncorrupted by Roman or any other mixture; the birth-place of the most moral races of men that the world has yet seenof the soundest laws-the least violent passions, and the fairest domestic and civil virtues. I thought of that memorable defeat of Varus and his three legions, which for ever confined the Romans to the western side of the Rhine, and preserved the Teutonic nation, -the regenerating element in modern Europe,-safe and free.

On the Elbe, a little before sunset. July, 1828.

2. We are now near Pirna, that is, near the end of the Saxon Switzerland; the cliffs which here line the river on

3

This, and the defeat of the Moors by Charles Martel, he used to rank as the two most important battles in the world.