I think, be very imaginatively disposed, to discover that look of mental anguish, and dying sentiment, which might be naturally anticipated.

In the Borgehese Palace I paid frequent and admiring attention to the most interesting work it contains-Raphael's Deposition from the Cross. The picture hall of the Palazzo Colonna must, when illuminated, present one of the finest scenes of the kind in Rome. After inspecting the views by Claude, and several works by the old masters, I became much interested in examining a beautiful cabinet, the frontal exterior of which is very ingeniously carved in ivory. The middle panel represents, in exquisite basso relievo, the masterpiece painting of M. Angelo, and affords a much better idea of the design of that work than a distant view of the defaced original can give. At the old dreary palace of the Barbarini, I paused long before two famous original paintings-Raphael's Fornarina, and Guido's Portrait of Beatrice Cenci. The one from the perfection displayed in its execution, the other from the melancholy history of its subject,* are highly attractive.

"I am cut off from the only world I know,

From life, and light, and love, in youth's sweet prime.

You do well telling me to trust in God.

I hope I do trust in him. In whom else

Can any trust? And yet my heart is cold."

Beatrice in Prison-Shelley's Tragedy of the Cenci.

The churches of St. John Lateran* and St. Maria Maggiore are next to St. Peter's in extent and richness. Among the numerous temples of worship delightful to frequent, is the Chiesa St. Maria degli Angeli, a noble building in the form of the Greek Cross, and rendered imposing by a grand dome and extensive pavement. It contains a famous meridian, and two fine frescos-St. Peter performing a cure, and the Baptism of our Saviour. The celebrated Sybils of Raphael are in the Church of St. Maria della Pace, and the Christ of M. Angelo in that of St. Maria sopra Minerva. There is, too, a small church near the Forum, said to be the identical prison where St. Peter and St. Paul were confined. When visiting this building, we descended a considerable flight of steps, and came to a gloomy dungeon, the traditionary cell of the great apostles. The very stone, fenced strongly with iron, to which they were chained, is designated. While endeavoring to feel that this very vault had indeed been the scene of suffering and prayer to the revered martyrs, a severe task was imposed upon our credulity. A small excavation in the wall above the stair-case, guarded like the relic below, we were informed was occasioned by a blow which the guard gave St. Peter as he descended, caus

* In the vicinity are the Scala Sacra, or Holy Stairs, said to be the stairs of Pilate's Judgment Seat, which our Saviour ascended. They are continually mounted by innumerable devotees upon their knees.

ing his head to strike and miraculously shatter the stone. In a neighboring church, called Ara Cœli, we admired an exquisite marble altar, said to have been erected by Augustus.

A bright Sabbath morning found me seated in the little chapel of a monastery, the dark and riveted walls of which denoted its antiquity. A few individuals were seated upon the wicker chairs around; and between the lattice work of the partition, several nuns might be seen, quietly engaged in their devotions. I had come thither to witness the ceremony by which two females entered upon their noviciate. When the chapels on either side of the lattice were well nigh filled, and a priest, robed for the occasion, had placed himself near the grate, an elderly preacher approached, and seating himself, addressed impassionately the kneeling females. His discourse, couched in the symphonic accents of the Italian, and delivered with singular energy, was not without impressiveness. He painted in glowing colors the temptations to which humanity is exposed upon the arena of the world, the moral safety and satisfaction of religious seclusion, the beauty and acceptableness in the sight of Heaven of the consecration of the young and the warmhearted-even such as they who knelt silently by-to the cause of Christ and the Church. The priest and his assistants then chanted from the ritual for some time, the silvery voices of the nuns blending melodiously with the choruses.

At length the clear yet hesitating voices of the noviciates might be heard as they read their Vows. Their interesting appearance, and the associations of the moment, were not inoperative upon those of us to whom the scene was new; there was a kind of sad and thrilling poetry in their very tones.

The first Sunday in Advent is one of those days when services are attended by the Pope in the Sistine Chapel. I willingly embraced the opportunity to obtain a view of his Holiness. The comparatively small room, one of the halls of the Vatican, was surrounded at an early hour by a large concourse of strangers. We passed through the whole band of Swiss guards, drawn up in the colonnade. These, although somewhat picturesque in their appearance, always reminded me of the soldiers of the opera house or the stage, as the ruff they wear, and something in their tout ensemble, seems more scenic than actualmore designed for effect than action. Upon entering, I looked intently upon a work of art of which I had heard much-said to be, in fact, the most meritorious and wonderful of paintings-the Last Judgment, by Michael Angelo, covering the entire back wall of the chapel. With all my gazing, however, I could but descry numerous and apparently most muscular figures, in various positions, the centre one in the attitude of command. Subsequent inquiry and reading, in some degree, explain the disappointment caused by a

first view of this renowned production. Its chief merit consists in the bold yet natural development of the forms, and the mathematical precision of the execution. It is, in a word, a grand study for the artist, and would more immediately affect the merely curious, had not time defaced, and did not a bad position obscure its merits. The living pageant, however, soon attracted attention. Many cardinals, bishops and other dignitaries, with their purple robes and ermine decorations, occupied the innermost division. But the Pope entering, riveted the attention of most of the audience. Nothing remarkable in his physiognomy strikes the beholder, except an unusually prominent nose. There was much apparent seriousness and devotion evinced by this personage, and indeed by the whole assembly. The chanting was solemn, though not remarkable; and to one devotionally disposed, the whole service was by no means void of grateful influence.

At the studio of Thorwaldsen, there is much to interest and gratify the visitor, whether the intrinsic and individual merit, or the remarkable number of his works be considered. The sunny face of the shepherd boy, as he sits contemplatively with his dog beside him, is truly inimitable; as are the Three Graces, and Mercury in the act of taking advantage of the sleep into which his music has lulled Argus. Of all unclassical specimens of sculpture, the figure of Lord Byron in a surtout and heavy shoes, with