different race from their predecessors; for instead of singing the verses of Tasso and Ariosto, as formerly, their only music is a shrill screaming, ah eh, which they utter at the corner of each calle, or street, to avoid collision with other gondolas. However, interiorly the gondola is well fitted for the ease and comfort of invalids, who can recline at full length on a soft couch, of which there is one on either side, and thus inhaling free air, when taking exercise not likely to fatigue, the gliding motion and gentle oscillation of the gondola, when passing over the smooth waters of Venice, often soothe the mind, and induce a state of tranquillity and repose. "The situation of Venice, built upon piles in the centre of a vast marsh, covered with algae and marine plants, would apparently indicate the inappropriateness of such a locality for invalids; but the following topographical details, given by M. Carrière, may in some measure explain the peculiar condition by which this place remains salubrious, irrespective of any diurnal exposure of the vegetation of the marsh to atmospherical action : "That part of the lagune at the north-west extremity of the Adriatic, in which Venice is situated, is of an oval form, the greatest diameter of which reaches to nearly eleven leagues, and extends from the north-east to the south-west, whilst the smaller diameters vary from two to four. The lagune is bounded by the main land from the north east to the south, and from the latter point a strip of land is continued, with some interruptions, so as to cut off all communication between the sea and the basin of Venice except by these openings. The maritime boundary, or Lido, is formed by the approximation of a series of islets, on the eastern aspect of which are placed the murazzi, formidable groups of rocks protecting the whole from the troubled waters of the gulf. The openings between the islets serve the purpose of sluices, always free, through which the waters diurnally ebb and flow. "The north-east extremity of the lagune, being nearest to the Julian and Carnatic Alps, and not sufficiently sheltered in that direction, is exposed to the cold and impetuous wind passing over those mountains. Due north, the Alps are much more elevated, and sufficiently so to arrest, in great measure, the wind which blows from that quarter. The west and south-west winds are interrupted by the mountain range which skirts Lombardy, but those which are not impeded in their course, and play freely over the Venetian lagune, are the south-east, or sirocco, and the east, which enters from the sea. "The south and the south-west winds also blow over the lagune, in spite of the transverse ridge of the Apennines, which at some distance crosses their path, but, according to the observations of Dr. Traversi, without the peculiarities which they present along the Ligurian shore and the western coast of Italy. Thus the west and the north, properly so called, are the least frequent, owing to the barrier caused by the elevation of the central Alps and the adjoining summits; and the north-east, the east, and the south-east, are the winds which principally influence the climate of the lagune. "The streets and lanes of Venice are, as every person knows, navigable canals; but, besides numerous minor passages, there are three large canals, which intersect the city in different directions-viz., the Guidecca, Canalle Grande, and Canalle Regio, and, by promoting a free circulation of air, materially contribute to the salubrity of the place. The direction and disposition of these canals enable the land, as also sea breezes, according as they may prevail, to traverse the whole extent of the city without interruption." "The climate of Venice and its topography favour a life of indolence and voluptuous ease; indeed, the dolce far niente practice is more thoroughly carried out there than in any other part of Italy. The countenance of the Venetians, with its tinge of melancholy and graceful dignity, indicates a life of inertia, in which neither the moral nor physical energies are called into activity; while the marvellous silence which reigns over this city of 120,000 inhabitants, is by no means calculated to disturb the death-like vitality so apparent in the people. All these circumstances favour the development of the nervous temperament, and hence the Venetians generally exhibit this form of constitution, sometimes even to feminine excitability." Genoa is not to be recommended to the consumptive; and of Florence it is said, "In no part of England could a climate be found more unfavourable for consumptive invalids than that of Florence, a town built in a deep ravine, almost surrounded by the Apennines, and intersected by a squalid river. But Florence is within a few hours' ride of Pisa, one of the chief depôts for foreign patients of this class in Italy, and the fame and artistic attractions of the city of the Medici are irresistible to the dying visitors who can at all move about. In the renowned capital of Tuscany, wandering amongst its splendid, but cold and damp, churches, its palaces and picture galleries, many an English invalid annually hastens his end; and it not unfrequently happens here, as in other cities of the south, that the places most frequented, and possessing the greatest attractions, are of circumscribed dimensions and badly ventilated. "For instance, visit the far-famed Tribuna of an afternoon, in autumn, and there you will find in a small octagon chamber, like a moderate-sized boudoir, containing the most valuable gems of antiquity, and some of the finest paintings in existence, a crowd of eager spectators, even including invalids, jostling each other from want of room, gazing for hours together upon the immortal works of art around, whilst breathing all the time a heated, confined, and impure atmosphere. An observer will not remain long before his attention is arrested by the ominous, short, dry, jerking cough, and, on looking round, he is sure to see the same stereotyped picture of the English disease' so painfully familiar to travellers throughout Italy, supported on the arm of an attendant, staring at the marble statue that enchants the world,' which often seems more alive than the gazing invalid. "But the injurious effects of breathing heated and confined air in this sanctuary of the arts, are unheeded by its votaries. The visitor is dazzled with the marvellous productions in sculpture and painting, which surround him. The divine statue of Cleomenes, the goddess of the Tribune, set in the middle of the apartment, in vivid contrast with the voluptuous painting of the same deity by Titian, suspended on the wall behind, the colouring of which is sublime, and appears as if painted yesterday; the Apollo, the group of wrestlers; the graceful Fornarina, and other chefs-d'œuvres of Raphael, are a few amongst the unique objects of art contained in this cabinet, having its cupola inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and pavement of tesselated marble, which are sure to rivet the attention of every invalid, and detain him perhaps for hours, unconscious of the price he will have to pay for all this pleasure. “At length, leaving the Tribuna and its heated atmosphere, he wanders through the adjoining galleries and corridors, where the climate is totally different, or perhaps visits some other public building, until tired nature reminds him of the fatigue he has gone through, when he returns home wearied and exhausted. As long as the excitement continues, little or no fatigue is experienced; indeed, it is often surprising how much physical exertion even the frailest will endure under this temporary stimulus; but reaction assuredly follows, attended by prostration, which cannot improve the health of a consumptive invalid. I have seen many examples of this description in different parts of Italy, and have often myself personally experienced the ill effects attendant upon sight-seeing in that country, although at the time in good health. It was not the ordinary fatigue of long-continued bodily exercise, but the depression resulting from breathing impure air in damp, cold churches, the heated and confined atmosphere of crowded apartments, or the malaria generated amongst ruins. 6 "It will not be sufficient to warn invalids against the evil results following sight-seeing. Patients able to accomplish so long and so fatiguing a journey as that from London to Rome or Pisa, are not likely to display such abnegation as to resist the powerful attractions by which they are surrounded, however warned as to the consequences. At least such was my observation when sojourning in Italy; for, go to whatever point of attraction I would, in any town of note in that country, I was certain to meet some of those melancholy spectacles' of human misery before mentioned, who ought never to have left the comforts of their own homes. "When all the lions' of Florence are exhausted, excursions are frequently made to the neighbourhood; for example, to the ruins of the villa of Pratolino, associated with the adventures of Bianca Capello, to the supposed site of Boccacio's gardens; even distant Valambrosa, with its gloomy shades and dark avenues, where the sun never penetrates, presents no impediment to the adventurous, sightseeing invalid, as I can testify. Amongst the public walks and promenades generally frequented, the gardens of Bobboli are the best situated, whilst the Cascine, or public drive, is the worst. The latter corresponds to Hyde Park, and is a long, narrow strip of reclaimed ground, in the valley of the Arno, between the hills, partly planted, and skirted by the river, which forms a turbid stream in summer, and becomes a mountain flood in winter; or even, occasionally, inundating both Cascine and town, so that boats have been employed to go from house to house, as occurred in 1844. "From its sunk situation, the Cascine is exposed to the mists and fogs of the valley, as also the damp vapour of the river banks, and the air circulates freely in but two directions-namely, up and down the course of the river. The mountains on either side exclude the lateral winds, except when they come in gusts. During winter, sometimes intense cold prevails in Florence, more so even than in England. The surrounding hills are frequently covered with snow, and a sharp cutting wind from the Apennines often blows like the blasts of Siberia. "The road from Bologna to Florence crosses the Apennines, which, on that side, are gloomy, arid, naked mountains, exhibiting scrubby vegetation, and an appearance altogether different from the grandeur of the Alps. However, on arriv ing within four or five miles of the city, the scene is entirely changed. From this distance, the approach, or rather descent, to Florence and its environs, is enchanting. The aspect of nature is now gay and brilliant, the cultivation excellent, every eminence is studded with charming villas and undulating shrubberies, in which the olive tree abounds. The walls on either side of the way are covered with flowers of every hue growing in profusion, and which form, as it were, a continuous parterre almost to the city gates. "The view of Florence, on a fine day, from the top of the last hill, with all its domes and towers glittering in the sun, and surrounded by its charming environs, is rich beyond description. The fair' city lies at your feet, and the Arno, by which it is intersected, winds along the valley until finally lost to view in the bendings of its course through the Apennines. Such is the first aspect of Florence; and when we remember, that within its walls are contained the wonders of ancient and modern art, and many objects sure to gratify the senses or delight the imagination, we can scarcely wonder that such attractions should prove irresistible.” "The English cemetery at Leghorn is singularly touching. In spite of the excessive brilliancy of the marbles, the aspect of so many tombs of foreigners, who died on their arrival or when about to embark on their way home, is melancholy. Most of the inscriptions are remarkable for an affecting conciseness and simplicity. Many of those strangers, full of youth and hope, came to recover their health in the land that has devoured them. The tomb of Smollett is the chief point of attraction in the English burying-ground." "The approaches to Rome, either by the Florence road or that leading from Civita Vecchia, are anything but imposing. When the invalid arrives at the gates of the Eternal city, after traversing, for several hours, a wild heath, without a human habitation to be seen, the first impression is invariably a feeling of disappointment. The Porta del Popolo is but a poor entrance to Rome, and far inferior to the gloomy, desolate, ruined aspect presented by the Coliseum, approaching by the road from Naples. "The pilgrim in search of health is at once struck with the sunk and low-lying situation of the modern city, under the Pincean hill, where he is to terminate his wanderings for a time and pass the winter. Parts of the modern, or Christian city, as it is called, to distinguish it from the Rome of antiquity, are lower than the banks of the Tiber-still the flavus Tiberinus,'-and during the autumn and some portion of the winter are constantly inundated. The market place in the neighbourhood of the Pantheon, and that building itself, are often flooded, and even towards the end of October I have seen two feet of water in this open space. During the same month the road to Civita Vecchia was impassable for several days, owing to heavy rains. "This, however, was an exceptional season, for the month of October is generally the most agreeable at Rome, and invalids are recommended to arrive at that period. The soil, refreshed by the September rains, is verdant and flowery. The city has a lively aspect during the celebration of the October fètes, and the streets are thronged with gay-dressed citizens, proceeding to the cool cellars of Monte Testaccio, singing the popular ballad, 'Viva Ottobre che passio ci da,' and other groups dancing the salterello' to the sound of the mandoline. "When these fetes are over, Rome returns to her sullen solemnity; and the enervating nature of the climate, together with the mournful aspect of her vast ruins, are more calculated to depress the mind than to inspire hope." "Á consumptive invalid and a keen observer, who had made the tour of Europe in search of the fabulous climate supposed to exist in some favoured country in the south, but which he never could find, thus writes from Rome, where he had spent a winter: "The more I see of Italy, the more I doubt whether it be worth while for an invalid to encounter the fatigues of so long a journey for the sake of any advantages to be found in it, in respect of climate, during the winter. To come to Italy with the hope of escaping the winter, is a grievous mistake. This might be done by alternately changing your hemisphere, but in Europe it is impossible: and I believe that Devonshire, after all, may be the best place for an invalid during that season. If the thermometer be not so low here, the temperature is more variable, and the winds are more bitter and cutting. In Devonshire, too, all the comforts of the country are directed against cold; here all the precautions are the other way. "The streets are built to exclude, as much as possible, the rays of the sun, and are now as damp and cold as rain and frost can make them. And then, what a difference between the warm carpet, the snug elbowed chair, and the blazing coal fire of an English winter evening, and the stone stair-cases, marble floors, and starving casements of an Italian house! "The only advantage of Italy, then, is that your penance is shorter than it would be in England; for I repeat that, during the time it lasts, winter is more severely felt here than at Sidmouth, where I would even recommend an Italian invalid to repair from November till February, if he could possess himself of Fortunatus's cap, to remove the difficulties of the journey." In these concluding observations we entirely concur, and earnestly recommend this work, which will be found to contain matter of interest for all readers. Written while Sitting to him for my Portrait. Оn, young and richly gifted! born to claim Yet by that art almost, methinks, divine, Of thine own spirit, gleams of thought and sense WRITERS AND CADETS. THERE is nothing more complete in its way than the hospitality of John Company, when, from his big house in Leadenhall Street, he sends you an invitation to attend the examination of his boys at Haileybury or Addiscombe; and, on a fine morning in June, there is nothing pleasanter than to be the recipient of it. It is well worth the expenditure of a day even in a busy season. You have nothing to do but quietly to abandon yourself to the recreation. The liberality of your host begins, so to speak, at your own door. You are not left to make your own way, at your own charge, to the place of entertainment. Everything is done for you, without cost and without trouble to yourself. A special train whirls you into Hertfordshire, or a comfortable Clarence picks you up at your own house, and carries you into Surrey. You have nothing to do but to accept the invitation-everything else, we say, is done for you. You are going to the Civil College at Haileybury to attend the public examination of the young "writers." The special train on the Eastern Counties railway carries you down to the Broxbourne station, and there you find gathered together, en masse, all the vehicles that Hertford and Hoddesdon can turn out, pressed for the occasion into the service of John Company, and ready to convey you up to the College square. You do not pay your money and take your choice." You take your choice without paying your money; and the choice is a wide one, too-anything from an omnibus to a dog-cart is at your service. You stand upon no ceremony-you ask no questions. The Chairman, who is sure to have some illustrious visitors in his train—a royal duke, a foreign prince, a stray ambassador or two-takes the lead in some appropriated vehicle ; and then, what Major Beresford would call the "rabble" help themselves to what they can get, and stand not on the order of their going. Soon the road is astir with as motley a stream of vehicular life as is to be seen en route to Epsom on the Derby day. The drive is a pleasant one, and not too long. You catch a glimpse of some fine country over the trim hedge-rows, and you are at your journey's end before you have time to be tired. Haileybury College is built not for ornament, but for use. There are no architectural beauties to enrapture you,-there is nothing venerable, nothing solemn about the structure: it is altogether very smug and prosaic-not at all like a bit of old Oxford, though caps and gowns cluster about it, and there are other signs of academical life. The interest of the scene is not in its dead-stock, but its live-stock. All over the grassplot in the quadrangle (Academicè, "quad ") stand little groups of students, and visitors more or less illustrious, waiting the hour at which what is called the "Examination" is to commence. The magnates of Leadenhall Street, known as Directors, or, in college phraseology, "Di's," muster there in some strength. A good show of both Houses of Parliament— Peers and Commoners, some of the most distinguished of both, members, perhaps, of Parliamentary Committees sitting to investigate the whole question of Indian government,-one or two mighty generals, just returned from fighting John Company's battles on the banks of one of the far-off Indian rivers,- —a small scattering of judges and collectors at home |