canals were covered with gondolas, filled with parties of pleasure, who were abroad to enjoy the mildness of the air and the splendours of the moon. Music and mirth gave animation to the scene. In one boat there was a concert of a dozen voices, accompanied by a violin. The airs were brisk, but wanting in melody.

At the square of St. Mark's, we found an immense crowd, and witnessed a great deal of buffoonery, probably much in the style of the Carnival. The first object that attracted attention, was a mountebank standing in the midst of a throng, in the dress of a priest, with a black cap upon his head, a profusion of rings upon his fingers, and a farthing candle in his hand. He recited a long prospectus of what he was about to write on scientific and literary subjects, in the character of a Caleb Quotem, and deliver for the edification of the public. A young poet, in a more serious vein, walked back and forth in front of a coffee-house, and spouted half a dozen of his latest sonnets, to amuse a circle of both sexes, who were all the while eating ice-creams. An old balladsinger, accompanied by a young girl on the guitar, attracted another audience. The Austrian band played national airs, the Greeks played cards, and others played the fiddle. It was the oddest compound of amusements, as well as of population, that I have ever witnessed.

We went several evenings to the theatre of St. Benedict, the only one open at the time of our visit. Instead of coaches, you see a fleet of gondolas pressing to the doors. Each of the boats carries a lamp, and the gondolier, by day as well as by night, gives warning as he turns a corner, by singing out, to the right! or to the left! as the case may be. St. Benedict furnishes few attractions, except boxes filled with pretty women. But the orchestra and dramatic corps united, can afford more amusement, than the fiddlers and ballad-mongers of St. Mark's. Austrian troops, under arms, are stationed in the pit to keep the audience in order. Most of the plays are translations from the French and German, even in the native city of Goldoni.

The pleasures of the last three or four days of our visit to Venice, were greatly augmented, by the arrival of the American Charge from Naples, on his way to the North of Europe. The incidents of our delightful excursions to Pæstum, Capo di Monte, and Caserta were freshly remembered; and new scenes for recollection were found, in our rambles

over the romantic islands of the Adriatic.

But Venice has

its Bridge of Sighs, as well as its sources of enjoyment; and it was painful to part for years, perhaps forever, with one who had become so endeared to us, by his social virtues, and his acts of kindness and friendship. We took our departure on the same day, but in different directions, one party being bound to Trieste and the other to Verona.

LETTER LXXXVII.

RETURN TO PADUA--RIDE TO VICENZA--SKETCH OF THE TOWN-ARRIVAL AT VERONA-OPERA-EXCURSION TO LAGO DI GARDA-PESCHIERA-THE MINCIO-VIEW OF THE LAKE-SERMIONE-RELIGIOUS FESTIVAL--DESCRIPTION OF THE PENINSULA-CATULLUS-BANDITTI-SKETCH OF VERONA--HOLY ALLIANCE--SARCOPHAGUS OF JULIET-TOMBS OF THE SCALIGERS--CHURCHES--GREAT MEN.

September, 1826.-On the 22d we returned to Padua, and the next morning at four o'clock set out for Verona. We had the most novel, if not the most splendid sunrise, I have ever witnessed. The orient was in a blaze, and for some minutes the trees appeared, as if their foliage had been dipped in liquid gold of a pale yellow. There seemed to be an absolute materiality, and almost a tangibility in the light, resembling a substantial coat of gilding.

The road from Padua is level and uniform, bordered all the way with poplars, mulberries, and vineyards. We reached Vicenza at 8 o'clock. Two hours were busily occupied in looking at the native city and the architecture of Palladio, in which little was found to call forth our admiration. The city is three miles in circuit, and has a population of 30,000. A visit was paid to the modest mansion of the old architect. It is of the Ionic order, which seems to indicate his professional preference. His own statue guards the entrance, holding a tablet inscribed with the models of his art. On the opposite side is a full length figure, representing his favourite science, bearing the square and other appropriate emblems. The Olympic Theatre was built by Palladio, upon classic models, resembling those found at Pompeii. A triumphal arch leads to the Campus Martius, a

beautiful green, irrigated by the head waters of the Brenta. The view of a castle and of the church of Magdalen, seated on the neighbouring hills, was worth all the rest to be found at Vicenza. Stones containing the water of crystallization were offered for sale; but the price was too extravagant.

At 11 o'clock we resumed our journey towards Verona. The country is rich, but wanting in variety of scenery. We crossed the Ponte Bello, the scene of one of Napoleon's great battles, in which some of his principal officers fell.

Just at evening we reached the banks of the Adige, which is here a large stream, winding through green and luxuriant borders. The show of carriages upon the Corso, extending beyond the gate, indicated our approach to Verona, the ramparts and domes of which presented a twilight view, by no means deficient in magnificence. Passing through that part of the town, which is called Veronetta, and crossing the bridge of the Adige, which unites it with the other section upon the right bank, we obtained good accommodations at the hotel of the Two Towers.

The evening was passed at the Opera. Among the performers was a Miss Barca, a Veronese girl, whose melody of voice infinitely surpassed any thing of the kind I have witnessed in Italy. Her person is not good, nor her face pretty, nor her action graceful; but her vocal powers are unrivalled. She warbles without effort, in all the sweetness and plaintive tenderness of the nightingale. The tones appear to drop spontaneously from her lips, breathing the very soul of music, and possessing an innate pathos, beyond the reach of art.

The day after our arrival was occupied in an excursion to Lago di Garda, or the ancient Lake of Benacus, the foot of which is eighteen miles from Verona, on the great road leading to Milan. The environs of the city are rural, and afford

a noble view of the mountains towards the north. At noon we reached Peschiera, situated on the Mincio, at the outlet of the lake. It is a walled and strongly fortified town. The moats, passing under the lofty ramparts, are filled with the crystal waters of the river, flowing with a rapid current, and contributing to the cleanliness and health of the fortress. Sentinels were stationed upon the green mounds, rising like tumuli along the bank, and the town was thronged with soldiers, who are sent hither to prevent smuggling upon the frontiers of Switzerland. The range of barracks is several

hundred feet in length, two stories high, painted, and the windows shaded by green blinds.

Passing the arched portals, we crossed the bridge of St. Mark, which is perhaps three hundred yards in length, thrown over the Mincio but a few rods from the lake, of which it presents a noble view, as also of the river, which whirls and hurries on with a broad, deep, and majestic current. The complexion of the water is a brilliant sea-green. It is a glorious stream, worthy of all Virgil's eulogies. A small boat, with two lads for oarsmen, was immediately chartered to take us to the peninsula of Sermione, seven miles from Peschiera. The outlet of the lake is so rapid and strong, that we found it difficult to stem the tide. An extensive and magnificent prospect opens on the spectator, as he emerges from amidst fortresses, which rise like an immense castle from the waves.

that

The Lago di Garda is thirty-seven miles in length from north to south, and fifteen in breadth in the widest part. One of the oarsmen stated, that it is a hundred men deep--" uno cento uomi profondo.' The water is so perfectly pure, we could see the white stony bottom, at the depth of thirty or forty feet. It is embosomed by mountains, rising on all sides, of moderate elevation towards the outlet, but gradually becoming more lofty and rude, till they terminate towards the north in naked calcareous ridges of the Alps. Their summits are often cloud-capt, gloomy, and grand. The shores are deeply indented, and the bold rocky promontories, exhibiting here and there a solitary village, are extremely picturesque. Monte Baldo on the eastern side, and the peninsula of Sermione, on the western, projecting so far towards the centre of the lake, as to reduce it to less than half its ordinary width, form the most conspicuous features. To the latter point we directed our course, reading Virgil and Catullus, and looking at the mountains, as our boat bounded over the waves, which sometimes exhibit the grandeur of the ocean swell.

The report of cannon came from the distant hills, which at first puzzled us, to conjecture the cause, amidst these rural and peaceful scenes. It called up the image of those border wars, by which the pellucid waters have so often been crimsoned with blood. The mystery was soon solved. It was the last day of the Jubilee; and guns were fired as signals for the commencement of the sacred rights, as well as to give eclat to the celebration. By and by the village bell

sent its peals across the water; and afterwards a religious procession, under the banners of the cross, and headed by priests in their white robes and red sashes, was seen slowly emerging from the gate of Sermione, and moving along the shore of the lake. The multitude proceeded to a green hillock, at a short distance from the little village, and there knelt upon the turf, to say the Ave Maria, and to join in other services. A confused sound of voices, in which the chant of ora pro nobis" was alone distinguishable, met our ears, as we came to anchor in the miniature port, under the frowning battlements and nodding towers of an old Gothic Castle, the basement of which is now occupied by a bed of green rushes. In the successive struggles upon the frontier, it has witnessed less pacific scenes, than to-day were exhibited under its walls. The harbour where the Roman poet used to draw up his pleasure-boat, was now filled with the barges of fishermen, who had come from the neighbouring shores, to unite in the festival; and mooring our bark among the fleet, we hastened to witness the ceremonies. Prayers were chanted aloud, to which the whole congregation responded, beneath the open sky, which was more refulgent than even the gilded canopies of Italy. The little mount, which was the ruin of an old redoubt, presented a glorious view of the lake and its shores, of the distant mountains, and of the hamlet of Sermione, composed of fishermen's huts, sheltered under the promontory. The number of inhabitants does not exceed five or six hundred, who subsist on the products of the lake.

In entering the gate, we crossed an old bridge, which for aught I know may be the remains of that, on which the fair country girl of Catullus used to dance at evening. The houses and streets were emptied of their tenants, all gone to the festa. A local guide was found to conduct us over the Peninsula, and show us whatever it contains. It is perhaps a mile in length, and half a mile in width, actually separated from the shore by a canal. Its highest point is something more than a hundred feet above the water, terminating in perpendicular cliffs of limestone. The surface is covered with olives, interspersed with mulberries, and here and there a pyramid of cedar. On the very verge of the rocks are the ruins of an extensive fortress, said to be a Roman work, but more probably of after ages. Upon the summit also stands the antique Gothic church of San Pietro, now in a ruinous condition, dark and desolate, looking as if it had been pelted by