seemed too studied for accident, in such a spot; we were not long in surmising his intentions, for among the maidens, came forth one singularly beautiful; her head was tastefully adorned with flowers, and her air somewhat sprightly and confident. I doubted not she was the beauty of the village; and as the young man smilingly glided along by her side, and at the turn leading to the town, darted into a narrow by-path, I read a tale of love, of love in its spring-time, and sighed as I thought what might be its harvest. The next morning we arrived in Padua, and the busy and cheerful aspect of the place, it being fair day, at once interested and pleased me. Two or three hours were satisfactorily passed in viewing the churches that of St. Antonio (the patron saint of Padua) is a grand structure, and the Scuola adjacent interesting. I admired the free, clean aspect, and sculpture ornaments of St. Justin, but lingered longest in the court and corridors of the old university, where were assembled a finer collection of young men than I had before seen in Italy, awaiting the lecture hour. I entered one of the high, dark chambers, where a professor, in his black and ermine bound robe, was questioning a large number of students on the subject of his prior discourse on jurisprudence. There was something which brought home forcibly to my mind, in the liberal, studious, christian aspect of this institution, and indeed of the whole city.

After dining at the Acquila d'Ora, three hours' riding brought us to the shore, whence we embarked in a gondola. The ocean queen lay before us, stretching her line of building tranquilly upon the still waters. In an hour we were in the main canal. I looked up to the antiquated and decayed buildings, the time-worn, yet rich architecture of the palaces; I felt the deep silence, the eloquent decay, and long before the gondola touched the steps of the hotel, I realized that I was in Venice.

THE LAST SOJOURN.

"And now farewell to Italy-perhaps
Forever! Yet, methinks, I could not go,
I could not leave it, were it mine to say
Farewell forever!"

MILANO! why is thy very name suggestive of so many and such affecting associations? The luxuriance and fertility amid which Napoli is reared, the mellow air of antiquity that broods over the Eternal city, Firenze's picturesque beauty, Venezia's unique aspect-these attractions are not thine. Assuredly in thy sister cities there is more to interest, more to admire, more to delight a retrospective ideality. True, at the coming on of evening, one may gaze unweariedly upon the equipages of thy nobility and the beauty of thy daughters, as they pass in dazzling succession along the Corso, and wonder not that thy modern conqueror called thee his second Paris. True, thy splendid marmoreal cathedral, with its clustering spires, its countless statuary adorn

ments, its magnificent proportions and gothic solemnity-true, thy cathedral is a tabernacle wherein to linger, rejoice and feel; and the richlywrought chapel beneath, with the corse of Carlo Borromeo, in its crystal coffin, is a marvellously gorgeous sepulchre, and the broad white roof above, whence the eye glances over the blue range of distant mountains and verdant plains of Lombardy, is no ordinary observatory. And then, again, one who loves to lose himself in mystic musings, may stand in the bare and deserted refectory of Santa Maria della Grazia, and ponder the mouldering remnant of Leonardo's genius,-tracing the fretted outlines of the forms and faces revered, that are clustered around the "Last Supper;" and if it rejoice one to behold the very poetry of physical life radiated from inanimate matter, he may note the sinewy forms, nervous limbs, distended nostrils, and arching necks of the bronze steeds at the Simplon Gate; ay, and one may beguile an hour at the Gallery of Art, were it only in perusing the countenance of Hagar, as she turns away from her home at the bidding of Abraham, as depicted by the pencil of Guercino; or study the relics preserved in the Ambrosian Library; or sit, on a festa day, beneath the spreading chesnuts of the public gardens, surrounded by fair forms and gay costumes, while the air is rife with the inspiring instrumental harmony of the Austrian band. But is it the memory of such ministrations alone

that makes the thought of thee, Milano, what it is to me? No: I revert with fondness to thy level precincts and mountain-bound environs, because there the air of Italia was last inhaled— there her melody died away upon my ear-there was my last sojourn in Italy.

The lapse of a few hours in Milan sufficed to indicate that something unusual was occupying and interesting the public mind. The cafés echoed the tones of earnest discussion; shrugs, nods, and expressive gesticulations were lavished with even more than Italian prodigality; dark eyes beamed with expectancy; the favored votaries of amusement had something like a business air about them; the tradesmen loitered longer in by-way converse; the journals teemed with eloquent and controversial articles; pamphlets were distributed, and placards posted. You might have deemed that the period so vividly described by Manzoni, when the Milanese were agitated by the factions which contended so long and warmly years gone by, about the price of bread, had returned, but that the prevailing language of the present popular feeling was that of pleasure-of enthusiasm, rather than passion-of common anticipation, rather than discordant interests. An American might have augured, from the signs of the time, that a strongly contested election was proceeding; and a Parisian would probably have discerned the incipient elements of a revolution; but the cause of the excitement was such as