more rounded and beautiful than the ilex; these, with the noble carrobba and the bay-tree, give to Italy a never-fading foliage. As we journeyed on, the Campagna to our right. became very dreary. Passing a miserable hamlet, in which was an old ruin, something like a temple, we reached Cisterna, said to be the "Tres Taberna" of St. Paul: the mere suggestion sent us back 1800 years, and we mentally joined the cavalcade, as it proceeded from “Appii Forum." We beheld the " prisoner of Jesus Christ," with those who had come to meet him. How would they joy at his wonderful deliverance from shipwreck,-be astonished as they heard of his extraordinary vision at Damascus! and while they deplored his bonds, we hear him say, "He has shewn me how great things I must suffer for his name sake." We behold a mortal,—not panting for a crown which is to be purchased by the blood of nations-a triumph in which kings are to be led in chains,—but for the martyr's palm of victory, and for the triumph of the cross, which is to bring in the dominion of peace and love; and cheered by that sustaining voice which said, "My grace is sufficient for thee." We observe him again journeying on towards Rome, saying, "To live is Christ-to die is gain!" Oh, happy traveller! this is, indeed, a desert spot and wild; but you hold communion with Him by whom all things were made to you there is no place of exile!

At Torre de' tre Ponti commences the famous “Linea Pia," a new chaussée, constructed on the Appian way. It is a road extending across the Pontine marshes for twentyfive miles, running in a straight line, and bordered on each side by trees and a canal, nearly as far as the eye can reach. On the right is a watery marsh, with maize; and beyond this, the horizon is bounded by a vast circle of forest, which

hides the more remote boundary formed by the ocean. On the left, about half a league distant, runs the Velletri branch of the Apennines, down to Terracina; on some fine point of which you occasionally catch the ruins of an ancient town or castle.

In this dreary marsh we were constrained to stop two hours at Ponte Maggiore, at a truly brigand inn. At the door hung a dried wild boar; and within was a dark den, in which were soldiers, and some of the people from the neighbouring mountains, looking equally ferocious. Above were two or three miserable rooms, without glass to the openings intended for windows, and dirty beyond description-dirt not to be thought of. An Alecto-like woman screamed out her orders to men and boys, of dark and gloomy countenances; who really appeared fit for any sinful deed-to us it was frightful.

We took a mouthful of half-roasted bird, and got again into the carriage, and waited patiently till our horses had finished their corn. This they did but too effectually: we had scarcely got well between the two canals, when a leader of our young horses began to play and jump in such a way as to get himself completely entangled in the loose ropes of the harness; down he fell, and we expected instantaneously to be dragged into the canal, for the others began to plunge, and the whole harness became broken. We jumped out, and saw with no small dismay the state of things. The courier and vetturino were whipping and pulling; the tramontane blew fiercely over the damp marsh; behind us was the wretched hovel-before us a line of road, extending for ten miles, to Terracina. At length the horse sprang up, and we were soon en route-truly, but not duly, thankful for having been preserved from a distressing overturn.

ROAD TO TERRACINA.

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Our eye was soon attracted by hundreds of lines of wild ducks, and the marsh was covered with colombraggi, a sort of wild pigeon. The next object was a post carriage, with a soldier as guard. At every half mile on the road was a small square house, a station for Austrian soldiery, and opposite to this a sentry-box. The guards are within sight. of each other: a precaution which has effectually checked. the brigands for the present. Formerly the neighbourhood of Terracina seems to have been the favourite scene of their achievements, being on the borders of the Papal and Neapolitan territories, and many mountain caves and passes being at hand. At length, turning round a noble point-that which we had been so long watching-we found ourselves at once on the shores of the Mediterranean, and the trees of a southern clime ornamenting its rocks. But unfortunately, a drizzling rain and searching wind obliged us to content ourselves with watching from the window of our inn the breaking waves of this small bay, and the struggling of a little fishing-boat with an opposing wind; and our morning treats were balanced against our evening désagremens of cold rooms, brick floors, and hard fare.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Terracina-Torre dei Confini-Fondi-Julia Gonzago-DoganiVegetation-Formian Hills-Tomb of Cicero-Gaetà-Ancient Formia-The Baths of Cicero-Women of Mola-LestrigonsMinturnæ-Banks of the Liris-The Villa of Marius-Capua— Naples.

"AWAKING, from the ruddy orient shone

The Morn, conspicuous on her golden throne,"

and we hailed her with delight; and, whisking round the promontory, the base of which is washed by the sea, and its summit crowned by the old castle of Theodoric, quitted the papal dominions. It was a delightful moment; our way seemed free to England as we saw the breakers touch the shore: for, notwithstanding all the unalienable interest of Rome, the thraldom is felt,-one is still under the power of the pope. Ashtoreth is there, the goddess of Heaven; and there is an high place for the molten image, on the hill that is called the Vatican; and there also incense is offered to strange gods.

We soon passed through the arch of a very small castle, with bastions, the barrier between the pope and the king of Naples, and our passports were here again examined. We skirted the shore. On our left were rocks covered with myrtle; and we passed a solitary tomb. On our right was the isle of Fondi, well wooded, and separated from us by a fine piece of water; and beyond the isle was the ocean, beaming in the morning light. In the distance before us

were high hills; and as we approached Fondi, groves of cypress gave a funereal effect to the whole scene. The gloom was increased by the walls of modern ruined churches, and ancient tombs, shaded by the olive, and standing in the midst of blooming orange groves. The vigour of life seemed to render more striking the withering power of age and death.

In the midst of this moral wilderness, it is delightful to recollect that there have been some, even here, that have not bowed the knee to Baal,-some whose faith has triumphed over the injuries of time. Such was Julia Gonzaga. She had imbibed the principles of the reformers from Valdez of Naples. Eminently beautiful, she early suffered the loss of her beloved brother, Luizi, Cónte de Sabioneta, celebrated for learning and courage, and for the destruction of a Moorish champion. Next followed her husband, Vespasiano Colonna. Her learning, her modesty, her beauty, were universally celebrated. Solyman the Turkish emperor, having given orders to Hayradin Barbarossa, the commander of the Turkish fleet, to seize her, a party of Turks landed in the night and took possession of the town of Fondi.

tains, and revenge for her consumed the old town.

The duchess fled to the mounescape lighted the torch which The ruins of the ancient walls,

older than those of Rome, and the present village, stand under the shelter of the mountains. We had scarcely reached this place, when "the dogani" were announced, and the whole luggage, Signorie and all, were ushered up to their scrutiny. It is a curious scene,—this legal invasion of human liberty. It was very cold, and we hinted that there ought to be hot coffee for the ladies. This put them in good humour; but still our boxes were ransacked,

VOL. I.

R