and was much gratified by the interesting collection of works by the early painters. These pictures, painted al fresco, have been cut from the walls they originally graced, and offer not only fine models of art, but teach how similar valuable works may be preserved by following the ingenious mode practised in their case. Some of the faces in these pictures, particularly those by Luini, are charming.

The Marriage of the Virgin, by Raphael, painted in his youth, is an exquisite picture; though in many parts of it the spectator is reminded of Pietro Perugino, by a certain indescribable quaintness that appertains more or less to the draperies and attitudes of some of the figures.

This picture illustrates a tradition that the Virgin was instructed in a dream that out of the numerous suitors, she should bestow her hand on him amongst them whose wand should bear lilies. The Virgin is attended by several young maidens of singular beauty, and Joseph, whose wand alone has flowered, has excited the envy and jealousy of his competitors; who display their disappointment by discontented looks, and one of whom angrily breaks his wand. The Virgin is the very personification of loveliness and modesty, and the whole picture is charming.

A German artist was completing a very fine copy of it for the Emperor of Austria, the possession of which I could not help envying him.

The engraving of this picture by Longhi, is

admirable, preserving, as it does in a wonderful manner, the delicacy and purity of the original.

A striking contrast to the Marriage of the Virgin is offered in an inimitable picture by Guarino, representing Hagar and her child driven forth by Abraham. In Hagar, is pourtrayed the creature of deep and passionate emotion, the indignation of the wronged woman, being mingled with the grief of the mother, who in her sentence of banishment, mourns less for herself than her son; her glance at Abraham is full of reproach, and anger seems to have half scorched the lids on which tears are still hanging. How different is the character of her beauty, for she is very beautiful, from that of the Virgin, in the picture of Raphael ! In the one beams the maiden purity that has never been sullied by the breath of passion, the repose never stirred by even a thought of love; while in the other stands confessed, the woman who has "loved, not wisely, but too well," who has sinned, and like all who have so done, been punished by him who caused the sin.

I remember Lord Byron's telling me that he had been greatly struck with this picture, and that he considered it full of poetry.

I saw in the gallery of the Brera, a painting, the name and artist unknown, so precisely similar in face and head-dress to the Cenci in the Barberini Palace at Rome, that it must have been meant for

the same person.

The features and expression,

and the redness of eyelids denoting grief, which characterise the portrait at Rome, are to be found in this; the only difference is, that a painter's pallette is on the thumb of the female.

This similarity throws, in my opinion, great doubt on the authenticity of the picture in the Barberini Palace, on which I had so often gazed with admiration and pity.

A Dance of Cupids, by Albano, is an exquisite painting; and a head of the Eternal Father, by Bernardo Luini, is very grand.

Went to the Duomo to-day, to see the subterranean chapel in which is preserved the mortal remains of Saint Carlo Borromeo. Inclosed in a sarcophagus of rock crystal, a perfect view is afforded of the figure, which is attired in pontifical robes, glittering with brilliants; and the head, on which is a mitre, rests on a pillow of gold. Strange mixture of what is most costly and indestructible, with what is most worthless and corruptible! This decoration of frail clay, from which the spirit has fled, has always struck me as being barbarous, and decreases, rather than promotes, my respect for the dead.

Carlo Borromeo was one of the most remarkable men to whom Italy has ever given birth: and those who might be disposed to undervalue the canonized saint, must feel a reverence for the memory of the man, whose patriotism, courage, and charity, entitle

his name to the esteem of posterity. Elevated to the rank of Cardinal at the early age of twenty-two, his conduct justified the partiality of his uncle, Pope Pius IV., who conferred this dignity on him. As a scholar, no less than as a divine, was this excellent man distinguished: but his courageous and unceasing exertions during the plague that ravaged his country in 1576, are beyond all praise. These are remembered with a feeling of lively admiration, that the costly trappings and brilliant diamonds which decorate his remains might fail to awaken for the saint: and we turned from the crystal sarcophagus, and its glittering ornaments, to reflect on the more imperishable monument of his virtues, the fame they have left behind.

I could not contemplate the crucifix, borne by this good and great man in the procession during the fearful plague, without a sentiment of profound reverence. It is carefully preserved under a glass case; and, I confess, appears to me to be a far more befitting monument than the costly sarcophagus of rock crystal, to the glory of him, who, actuated by his deep faith in it, was enabled to fulfil duties from which the less pious and charitable shrank back in terror.

The statue, now called St. Bartholomeo, and said to have been that of Marsyas, is a most disagreeable object; and so unlike the general character of Greek sculpture, that I cannot believe the assertion that Praxiteles was the author of it.

A curious and beautiful piece of needlework, representing the birth of the Virgin, reminded me of the productions of our own Miss Linwood. This ingenious fabric is also due to a woman, whose name I have forgotten, and was executed in the early part of the seventeenth century.

I pass over the other objects of interest contained in the Duomo, which have been so often described as to leave nothing new to be said of them: and I acknowledge that I left a long inspection of the whole with little regret, to ascend to the roof of the church, which commands a magnificent view. It was refreshing to the spirits, as well as delightful to the eye, to contemplate the rich and glowing plains of Lombardy, stretched out like a vast garden, bounded by the Alps and Appenines, blue as the sky that canopied them; while the spiral pinnacles, with their delicate tracery, and the multitude of statues, all white as the snow that still capped the highest points of the Alps, afforded a striking and beautiful contrast to the glorious landscape: Art and Nature both displaying their wonders.

Went to-day to Santa Maria Delle Grazie, in the refectory of which is the celebrated fresco of the Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci. Injured as this picture is by time, it still bears evidence of the wondrous power of that great master; and, alas! also of the barbarity of the monks, who had a door cut through it, for the convenience of having their repasts served by a shorter route from the