land, and realize the subtle power of the agencies which have so silently woven it. The impressions of an individual mind, noted during a considerable interval of time, will therefore possess more of this deliberate and eventual character. In imparting them, it seems unwise, at least, to run into the common error of portraying minutely the details of statues, paintings and edifices-descriptions, which often have the effect of exciting without satisfying curiosity; while graphic delineations of manners and customs have been too frequently and faithfully drawn to be attempted in the present instance. The aim has rather been to lead from particular descriptions to the general contemplation of such subjects as are prominently indicative of the scenes and intellectual influences of Italy. ITALIAN SKETCH BOOK. ROME. "Yet, this is Rome, That sat upon her seven hills, and from her throne Was greater than a king!" In the light of a clear atmosphere we stood upon the summit of the Capitol, and thoughtfully gazed forth upon the city with its mountain-wall circling broadly in the distance. From so commanding a position, we were enabled to expand our idea of the site of ancient Rome, into a sensible conception of the relative localities and original aspect of her scattered and dimly defined remains. Directly beneath us stood a massive form, whose sculptured and inscribed surface is uniformly tinged with the melancholy hue imparted by the earth which so recently encrusted it, and deepened by the lapse of ages. And yet, beneath that arch have earth's most splendid pageants passed; eyes bedewed, with the rich tears of grateful exultation, have dwelt upon its now defaced splendor; its broad foundations, resting heavily in their sunken bed, have trembled beneath the proud tread of the triumphing, and its concave rung with the inspiring shout of a Roman greeting. It was the triumphal arch of Septimius Severus. Immediately beside it, in mournful companionship, rise three mutilated columns, all that exists of the noble tribute of gratitude raised by Augustus to the god of thunder, after returning unscathed from the rush of his awful shaft. A slower but not less sure agency has not passed negligently by the monument, and the naked triumvirate, clustered, as if in the "fellowship of grief," but feebly represent the living sentiment which gave them birth. The same number of these erect and solitary relics, lifting their burdenless capitals in air, furnish the commencement of an outline which observation may continue and imagination embody, of the temple of Jupiter Stator. Cold chroniclers of thrilling times are they; senseless spectators of what would kindle even the unenthusiastic, which else we might almost envy. It seems as if something of pride yet lingered about these decayed remnants of a once glorious company. They bore the vaulted roof, which echoed the most eloquent outpourings of moral indignation; they stood around, silent and stern, when |