mining and comparing them. Here the works of the early school of painting precede those of the more highly finished; consequently the eye is not forced to contrast the somewhat formal and hard productions which characterise the first, with the graceful and exquisite works of the latter; but advances gradually to the pictures most calculated to charm and fix it. And yet the works of the early masters have a powerful attraction for me. One beholds in them the peculiarities which a deep study has enabled their followers to subdue; and sometimes detects beauties more happily developed in the paintings of succeeding artists, which might never have existed had they not profited by the contemplation of their predecessors' works.

Who that has looked on, can ever forget the Saint Cecilia ? What drawing!-what colouring! The Murder of the Innocents made me shudder: its truth of expression, and wonderful spirit, astonishing as a chef-d'œuvre of art, render a long examination of it too painful to be borne.

The Martyrdom of Saint Agnes is a very grand picture, and the face of the saint, full of mingled resignation and hope, offers a fine contrast to that of the executioner. It was pleasant to look on a Holy Family, by Innocent d' Imola, after having

turned with excited feelings from the two former pictures the expression of the Virgin is charming.

At the first glance, I took the Transfiguration, by Ludovico Carracci, to be a Correggio, so different is it from his usual manner; it is full of power and vigour.

The Rosario, by Domenichino, might be cut into two pictures, for it offers two different subjects; one, Murder, in its fearful shape of stabbing and trampling to death a young and beautiful woman by an infuriated horse, urged on by a savage rider: and above this scene of cruelty is the Madonna and Child showering roses on St. Dominick.

The repetitions of martyrdoms and similar subjects of horror, however admirably represented, give me more pain than the excellence of the art displayed can give me pleasure; and detract considerably from the enjoyment which the contemplation of fine works confers.

We left the gallery, after having passed some hours there, thinking more highly than ever of the Bolognese school in general, and of Guido in particular, whose pictures here are indeed admirable.

We went through the Campo Santo to-day. It was formerly the Chartreuse of Bologna, and now serves as a cemetery, remarkable for the good order

and cleanliness with which it is kept. Some of the inscriptions are very touching, from their simplicity; and appeal strongly to the heart, when perused, as to-day, in the silence and solitude of this place of death, with a blue sky and glorious sunshine overhead, and a balmy air fanning the brow and exhilarating the spirits. The sense of these blessings renders one more disposed to mourn for those torn for ever from the bright sunshine and cheerful earth, to the dark and narrow home, where rest those who once enjoyed them as we now do. Without the blessed hope held out to us by religion, how fearful would be the prospect of a dreamless and eternal sleep in the cold dark grave!

MODENA. This is a quiet and silent place: the palace large and disproportioned to the town, as also to the extent of territory of its sovereign. The gallery contains several good paintings by the Caracci, Guercino, Guido, Albano, and Dossi. The custode pointed out with great complacency the pictures returned from Paris, a journey which is considered to be a certificate of their value; the French being supposed to have taken only the best.

They judge works of art better than they execute them, Signora," was the custode's remark.

The library contains above eighty thousand volumes, and above three thousand manuscripts. In it Muratori and Tiraboschi consulted authorities for their histories; and spent many an hour filling those pages since so often referred to by students. They were both at the head of this library, a circumstance which invested it with increased interest to me, who feel a reverence towards those pioneers in literature who open a route to the less laborious and enterprising. Two volumes of the Bible, with innumerable and beautiful miniatures by Taddeo Crivelli, and an artist whose name I forget, I could have looked at for hours.

A collection of provincial poetry, said to contain poems nowhere else to be met with; a manuscript of Dante, with some quaint figures on it; various manuscripts of Bojardo and Tasso; and the correspondence of Tiraboschi, were shown

to us.

This fine library belonged to the house of Este; and was brought hither from Ferrara, when its possessor, Cæsar d'Este, was despoiled of his dominions by Clement VIII.

The museum contains some antiquities, but is only now forming. The bucket, rendered more famous by Tassoni, than by its having been taken

from the Bolognese, still dangles from its chain: and I looked on it with interest, as having inspired a poem which, whatever Voltaire may have written in depreciation of it, has very great merit; but he who could depreciate Shakspeare, may be pardoned for attacking Tassoni.

Samuel Rogers! Samuel Rogers! never will I put faith in you again. In vain have I sought the Orsini Palace near the Rizzio gate, to see the picture of "Ginevra," that luckless maiden who found a tomb upon her bridal day within "an oaken chest, half eaten by the worm, but richly carved by Anthony of Trent."

Shall I confess it? this story so well told, was one of my great inducements to visit Modena; and now that I am here I can find no one who ever heard of it. Mine host shrugged his shoulders, and declared he never knew of such a thing; the cicerone was puzzled and confounded, and thought there must be some mistake, for had such an event ever occurred, it surely must have been communicated to him; for man and boy he had dwelt at Modena, and was acquainted with all circumstances that could interest strangers.

O Samuel Rogers!--yet let me not accuse you unjustly