ITALIAN CHARACTER AND HABIT. 33 the tone of the Italian temperament, whose prevailing characteristic is indolence. The Church is every thing, and it does every thing. It leaves scarcely any thing for man to do for himself. I believe the Italian mind, generally speaking, in its present defective state of cultivation, is quite incapable of those intense processes of thought and reflectiveness which the individual pursuit of spiritual truth occasions. There is a mental diligence and labor connected with real Christian experience, such as the Italian mind is, as yet, unprepared to exercise. Hence, then, the unlimited influence of a system which professes to do for money, what cannot be accomplished by any other means. The sinner rests his responsibility upon the Church. The Church professes to relieve and cherish; and while drawing him to her maternal bosom, cheats him of the "sincere milk of the word," and binds him with a chain stronger than adamant. It was on the thirtieth of March that we bade farewell to Rome, en route for Naples. Quitting the city by the Porta di San Giovanni, we had on our right the remains of the Appian way, with its fragments of ancient Roman tombs. On the left were the aqueducts-those splendid and costly means for supplying Rome with her overflowing fullness of fountains, carrying with them in their course the proofs of her greatness in design and vigor in execution. The Campagna, through which we passed, was in all other respects bare and uninteresting. Our route lay towards Albano, near to which the Appian way is met by the more modern road. A drive of between three and four hours brought us to Albano, from the heights of which the eye could range over the whole Campagna-bounded on one side by the Mediterranean, and on the other by the Apennines. And there lay Rome-that once "mighty heart"—with her now faint pulsation scarcely telling of life; for Roman animation is not life-life crowded with generous motives, and noble projects and elevated pursuit. But yet it was something thus to look down on Rome, as the scene of some of the earth's most astounding dramas-as the seat of apostacy's worst form. 34 ALBANO VELLETRI. On our right, as we descended from the carriage and proceeded on foot up the hills of Albano, we had a tract of rich agricultural country, bounded by the sea, which, from thence towards Terracina, was the scene of the latter half of the Eneid of Virgil. We were now on classic ground; but there was created in our minds an interest far beyond all that associations merely classical could import: we were on the very road traversed by St. Paul, when, after his shipwreck, he went up to Rome by way of Appii Forum and the Three Taverns, the usually assigned sites of which places lay before us. Although, in all probability, the country has in most of its details undergone considerable change since it was visited by the great Apostle of the Gentiles, yet it was deeply interesting to know, that its main features-the grand outlines of mountain, hill, valley, and ocean, as they now exist, had been gazed on by him. * On the evening of our first day's journey we reached. Velletri, and being anxious to proceed with all convenient speed, we renewed our route after a suitable pause for rest and refreshment; and it was during the night that we crossed the Pontine marshes, the atmosphere of which is so injurious to persons who are not in robust health. Various and repeated efforts have been made for effectually draining these marshes, both previous and subsequent to the Christian era, but in vain. I was awakened from my midnight slumber in the carriage, by the wearisome croaking of the frogs, which swarm in all parts. It sounded like the heavy falling of waters at a distance; and had I not heard it with my own ears, I should have deemed it incredible that such a noise could be emitted by such creatures. I should think the sound, in a still night, might be heard at the distance of three or four miles. The Pontine marshes are of wide extent, and are the effect of an anciently commenced and perpetually continued contest between the earth and the bright waves of the Mediterranean; and notwithstanding all the efforts from time to time made to counteract their influence, so prejudicial to * Acts xxviii. 11-15. human life, still they send forth a malaria, which is irresistible in its effects. I awoke with a most distressing sensation of fever and thirst, accompanied by an oppressive fulness about the brain, which was probably the temporary effect of the pestiferous atmosphere. I asked for water where we stopped to change horses, but none was to be had fit for drinking; and in order to subdue in some degree the craving of thirst, I was glad to take a draught of poor sour Italian wine -not very palatable at the best, when compared with the bland and delicate productions of France. It was Appius Claudius who first conceived, and who actually executed the bold idea of forming a solid road across these terrible marshes; and remains are still to be seen of the canals, bridges, and private ways which were parts of the bold undertaking. During a great part of the period of those wars in which Rome was so frequently engaged, this territory, over which so much treasure had been expended, became neglected; the consequence of which was, a perpetual succession of inundations; and, one hundred and fifty years before the Christian era, extensive and costly reparations became necessary. After long neglect, Julius Cæsar conceived extensive projects for their improvement; Augustus followed them up; and Trajan, in his day, paved the main road, and rebuilt many bridges which had fallen into decay, and supplied additional ones. These lasted for a time; but it was reserved for Pope Boniface VIII. to make more suitable and permanent improvements; whose efforts were continued by Sixtus V. and Pius VI. Still, notwithstanding all attempts, the Pontine marshes are the region of misery and the abode of death. Ague, jaundice, dropsy, marasmus, palsy, mania, melancholy, there sit in watchful jealousy over the pulsations of human life. It was shortly after day-break that we reached Terracina, which is washed by the blue waves of the Mediterranean; and though squalid and miserable in itself, as most provincial towns in the papal states are, yet it was a charming relief to us, after having encountered during the night the horrors of the |