no sensibility to the charms of nature, nor any relish for the noblest productions of art; if they have no turn for observation. and comparison; if they have never inquired of the records of history, and are ignorant of the languages which are spoken by the people among whom they sojourn; if their minds have never been enlarged by the discoveries of science, or refined by the graces of literature. Persons of this description are too often. met with on the road to the principal cities of Europe, or making their temporary residence in Paris, Rome, or Naples. But what advantage, adequate to the fatigue, expense, and inconvenience of reaching these celebrated capitals, can they promise themselves? They must generally be satisfied with being dragged through the regular round of sight-seeing by one of those tormenting companions, the illiterate ciceroni, who are ever ready to proffer their services to the bewildered stranger. They visit the magnificent halls, which are filled with the rarest treasures of art and antiquity, without having taste to admire, or knowledge to appreciate them. They have, therefore, no other solace than that of mingling with those of their own countrymen, who may be as idle, as ignorant, and as dissipated as themselves; and, shunning the society of intelligent natives, with whom they are unable to converse, waste their time in low and coarse gratifications. On their return, they are little wiser, but probably much more coxcomical in their manners, and corrupted in their morals, than before their departure. They may, indeed, assume airs of consequence and superiority among their simple and untravelled neighbours, but, in the eyes of the more discerning, will only discover

"How much a dunce, that has been taught to roam,
Excels a dunce, who has been kept at home."

We remember, a few years since, observing a fellow traveller in the packet from England diligently exploring a French grammar, which he had probably never seen before, attempting to decline nouns, and conjugate verbs, amidst the bustle of the sailors in a rather tempestuous passage, and the pleasant varieties of seasickness with which he was surrounded. His laudable, though somewhat late diligence in the prosecution of his studies, might have been very edifying, but it reminded us of those, who are said, by Lord Bacon we think, to be "going to school rather than to travel." Another, on our arrival at Calais on a Saturday, having no other provision for his journey than a bundle, containing a few shirts, we ventured to ask him, if he designed to proceed far into the country. He replied, that it was his intention to return to England on Monday morning. He could, doubtless,

inform his admiring compatriots, without violating the literal truth, that he had been in France.

As might naturally be expected in an age, in which the vanity of becoming an author is perhaps more prevalent than at any former period, many of the numerous tribe, who are continually wafted to foreign shores, are ambitious of enlightening the public with the result of their observations. The merit of their literary productions is, of course, very various, according to their respective qualifications; but we fear, that no inconsiderable part of them add but little to the mass of correct information, or solid instruction. The increased, and still increasing, intercourse between the different states of the civilized world, has awakened and stimulated a curiosity respecting almost every thing relating to them, which inclines the public to accord a favorable reception to nearly every book of travels which is tolerably well written. Some are given to the world in the form of familiar letters; others assume the arrangement of a diary; and a few are divided into chapters, and profess to furnish an elaborate account of the laws, religion, commerce, revenues, manners, customs, and amusements of the countries visited by the author, and include perhaps a particular description of their soil, climate, productions, rivers, and mountains. In many of them there is much which might be written by the fireside of the author, on returning from his tour, as well as on the spot. Some are composed in a manner lively or amusing enough, but afford little valuable information. Others, which acquaint us with various particulars that it is useful to know, are written in a style so dull and heavy, that they are read with little pleasure.

If travellers would be contented with relating what they actually saw and heard, and with giving us their own reflections and impressions, we should peruse their writings with more advantage and satisfaction. But too many are fond of filling their pages with crude and hasty opinions, formed on very limited and imperfect views; of deciding dogmatically on the character of whole classes of society by the conduct of a few individuals, whom they may have accidentally seen or heard of; and of praising or condemning the natives of a foreign country, accordingly as they may be pleased with the circumstances of their journey, or out of humor on account of any little difficulties or disappointments, which they may happen to encounter. It is not easy for a traveller to become domesticated in private circles in foreign countries, even if his residence should be longer than is generally the case, and he should possess more than ordinary advantages for familiar intercourse. But it

is too common for many, on the ground of a few letters of introduction, and a little transient acquaintance with individuals, to whose notice and civilities they have been recommended, to draw very general and unwarrantable conclusions as to the state of society, and of domestic life. They are, therefore, quite as likely to mislead us, in many cases, as to afford information on which we can depend.

There is scarcely any part of the transatlantic world, which, on several accounts, is better adapted to excite a lively and intense interest in the minds of intelligent persons, than Italy, and more especially its once proud, and still splendid metropolis, whose name is associated with the most remarkable events in the annals of mankind. This celebrated city has experienced a variety of fortunes, and a series of changes, which have never been paralleled in the history of the human race. The most minute circumstances which are connected with its past and present condition, or its future prospects, are not, therefore, without a degree of interest and attraction. Its claims on our attention, in every period of its progress, are great and numerous. At the mention of its very name, all who have any acquaintance with the "ample page of knowledge, rich with the spoils of time," recall to their imagination its brilliant triumphs in arts and arms; its heroes, patriots, and orators; its stupendous and interesting ruins; and the masterpieces of painting, sculpture, and architecture, which it embosoms within its walls, and which have been the admiration of so many successive generations. Rome, too, as the seat of that spiritual power, which was scarcely less extensive and despotic, than the imperial sway of the Cæsars, and which has exerted so great an influence on the political and religious affairs of christendom, must ever be regarded with peculiar interest by the philosophical inquirer.

Writers of travels in Italy have been unusually numerous since the commencement of the present century. "The Classical Tour' of Eustace has been much read, and is certainly written in an elegant and engaging style, although particular passages of the work may be thought too labored and ambitious. The author was a gentleman and a scholar, and has written much which may be profitably perused. Still, however, his information cannot always be relied on, and from our own examination, we should suspect that some of his descriptions were not derived from personal observation. His classical enthusiasm, and his predilections as a clergyman of the Romish church, prepared him perhaps to regard almost every thing which he met with in his transalpine excursions with too favorable an eye. While he has painted his

canvass with a glowing pencil, and exhibited his pictures in the most flattering light, he has sometimes forgotten the shades, which seem to be required of those, who would furnish a faithful representation.

The "Italy" of Lady Morgan is written in a style so loose and affected, and is so replete with egotism and pretension, as frequently to excite disgust. Her vanity and presumption are often conspicuous, and she sometimes betrays an ignorance on subjects which employ her pen, that can hardly be excused. This lady is also too fond of indulging a wantonness of remark, sometimes bordering on profaneness, with respect to the religious observances of the church of Rome, or the superstitious practices of individuals of that communion. To expose, without levity, what appears to be erroneous or absurd in the theological opinions or usages of others, may be sometimes useful and proper. But sportive reflections on such topics are too apt to assume a tone, which tends to diminish our reverence for religion itself. The practical errors of the Roman Catholics appear with more grossness in countries where their religion exclusively prevails, or greatly predominates, than in those in which it is merely tolerated. The softened and mitigated form in which its doctrines and worship are presented in protestant countries, and the superior learning piety, and morals of its clergy, when surrounded by those who hold a purer system of faith, and whose ecclesiastical rites are more simple and unostentatious, are not among the least of the advantages which have resulted from the reformation. In Italy, as might naturally be expected in a country where only one religious creed is allowed to be openly professed, the attention of the traveller is often arrested by the puerile observances and misplaced homage of the ignorant and deluded multitude. But if we could indulge contempt for the sincere, though erroneous belief of any class of christians, it should surely be mingled with pity, in every candid and reflecting mind. There is a singular union of grandeur and dignity in the catholic ritual with much that appears childish and unmeaning. The most impressive solemnities are often mixed with ceremonies which are nearly allied to buffoonery. But, in in our excursions in Italy a few years since, we were sometimes struck, and even edified, by the appearances, although they might sometimes be only appearances, of piety and devotion, which were exhibited by different classes of persons, and the august and imposing ceremonies which we often witnessed, however we might be occasionally shocked by the blind credulity or deplorable superstition of the less enlightened portion of the community. We

frequently noticed, in particular, a practice which prevails in many of the villages of Italy, of assembling, at the setting of the sun, on the summons of the church bells, around an image of the Virgin, and chanting an evening hymn. The devotional air of the peasants, with their wives and children, under their mild and beautiful sky, at so interesting a moment, and amidst scenes so picturesque and delightful, was peculiarly affecting; and, however we might regret the errors of their faith, we could scarcely refuse to sympathize with their feelings.

Among other more recent publications on Italy, the posthumous work of Mr. Bell has a claim to particular notice. The writer was a Scotch surgeon of distinguished eminence, and visited Italy with the hope of recovering in some measure his declining health. He died, however, in Rome, and some years after his decease, the sketches of his travels were arranged for publication by his daughter. He appears to have been an amiable, modest, and intelligent man. The illness under which he labored, and the circumstances attending the preparation of his manuscripts for the press, are calculated to avert the severity of criticism. His style is simple and unassuming, and his book is chiefly occupied by notes of his journey from Lyons to Rome; and with criticisms on public buildings, and the valuable productions of ancient and modern art in the museums of the principal cities through which he passed. His knowledge, as an anatomist of great celebrity, afforded him a peculiar advantage for estimating correctly some of the admirable statues of which he has favored us with a description. His remarks on these, and the most interesting paintings which met his view in churches and other public places, are bold and independent, and for the most part, so far as we are capable of forming an opinion, highly judicious. His description of the statue of the fighting gladiator in the gallery of Florence, may serve as a specimen of his manner.

"A fighting gladiator is not the most noble or feeling exhibition by which to express dignity, passion, or suffering; but this statue is the boldest effort, ever made by any sculptor, to represent the beautiful forms, and high energies of the human body.

"The limbs are thrown out with an animation which exhibits all their elasticity and youthful strength. The protruded shield repels the foe, and covers all the extended line of the body, which appears ready to spring with a force and action of intense velocity and irresistible power. The head and youthful countenance is turned round to face danger, with a lively and daring animation, which expresses a sort of severe delight in the immediate prospect of it, and foretells the deadly thrust that is aimed, while the right hand