Inferno, in which the then reigning pope is placed conspicuously; and the vindictiveness of the poet is very evidently illustrated by the sympathy of the painter, who was, I believe, his own friend Giotto." Until the press has equal liberty with the pencil,— rather, till its trammels are entirely struck off, I question whether the system of popery will ever be overturned in Italy. I have seen the remark somewhere, that it is to the art of printing that we owe the Reformation. Slow, indeed, would have been the progress of Luther's doctrines, but for the press, and its freedom. These secured,—those doctrines spread over the civilized world, with the rapidity and might of an inundation. One can scarcely believe that this Campo Santo could have been for centuries the common burying-place of an entire city. But some one has remarked, that this "Jerusalem soil long possessed the quality of speedily corroding bodies deposited therein; and of destroying them in twenty-four hours." I was thinking, a few minutes since, had the priests only ventured to affirm, upon the authority of the pope, that the virtues of this holy ground extended to the souls of all interred therein; it would, doubtless, have become a source of considerable revenue to the Church of Rome. How many of "the faithful” in Italy, would have been induced to " sell all " in order to secure such a benefit! Nor would such a decision, from the chair of infallibility, have been at all" out of character" with the other "acts of faith," which have originated from the same source; and, certainly, as useful to the soul as the immense sums of money which are annually expended in praying souls out of purgatory. Should this page ever be printed, and, what is not very likely, should it ever meet the eye of his holiness, the hint may not be unworthy of consideration,-unless it may have quite lost its virtues, by having originated with a protestant heretic. We have only time for a short walk through the city, and then we must hasten back to Leghorn. But here is the Baptisterium;-an octagonal edifice, covered with sculpture, and crowded with columns. Its interior is ample. Who that has read of Pisa, forgets the echo in the Baptistery. And what an echo!-perfect,powerful. The pulpit is marble, profusely sculptured. The font is a gigantic marble basin, and, seemingly alive with antique pagan emblems; but what business have they here? And, "look aloft,"-" arches are perched on arches, and pedestals are stilted on the capitals of columns." During several centuries this was the only baptismal font in Pisa. How many hundreds of thousands have been baptized here, many of whom repose in the cemetery we have just left! but their souls,—where are they? and the echo replies, "Where are they?" We have just enjoyed a walk through the university, once, the second school of law in Italy. At present, it is greatly reduced from its former renown. How solitary its halls! The memory of Galileo is its glory; and I know not any other great name besides, in which they have any particular cause to glory ;— but he was a host. * * * * * One is surprised, considering the low position of Pisa, and the humidity for which the climate around the city is so noted, that the buildings are not more aged and weather-worn. I have met with the remark, in the course of my reading, that, moist as is the climate of Great Britain, yet double the quantity of rain falls around Pisa, annually;-not less, we have been informed, than forty-seven inches. But there is this difference, it usually descends with more violence : "It generally falls in large round drops, direct to the ground. It never breaks into moisture, nor dims the air, nor penetrates the houses, nor rusts metals, nor racks the bones with the searching activity of an English shower." It is partly on this account, and for the mildness of the winter, that vast numbers of invalids, particularly those affected with diseases of the lungs, flock here from all parts of Europe. Many recover, so as to maintain the celebrity of the climate; but vast numbers come here only to die. They had, possibly, clung too long to the north,-or to the home of their fathers; or affection had lingered, unwilling to allow one or two of the family to follow the example of Young toward his drooping, lovely Narcissa: "I flew, I snatch'd her from the rigid North, And bore her nearer to the sun." But a climate so favourable to the preservation of the works of art, and the health of man, possessed no inherent properties conservative of the liberties and independence of that republic, of which this city was the capital. These depended upon other and different elements;-and when allowed to do their "evil will,” how fearfully did they beat upon prostrate Pisa! "How are the mighty fallen!" What reader of history can forget, when viewing Pisa, that, "at an early period the city asserted its independence, and, in the tenth century, blazed forth in all the glory of a mighty and victorious republic. Its numerous fleets rode triumphant on the Mediterranean; and Corsica, Sardinia, the Saracens on the coast of Africa, and the infidel sovereign of Carthage bowed beneath its powers. Captive kings appeared before its senate; the Franks, in Palestine and Egypt, owed their safety to its prowess; and Naples and Palermo saw its flags unfurled on their towers. Pontiffs and emperors courted its alliance, and acknowledged its effective services; and the glory of Pisa, twice ten centuries after its foundation, eclipsed the fame of its Grecian parent, and, indeed, rivalled the achievements of Sparta herself, and of all the cities of Peloponnesus united." Pisa never recovered the shock she received in the destruction of her fleet by that of Genoa, in the latter part of the thirteenth century. About one hundred and eight years after this event, the Pisan republic was dissolved by the Florentines, and incorporated into that government. Such may be the final destiny of the United States of America, should "the dissolution of the union" occur. The tie that at present binds the States together into one united and happy republic may be broken. Each state will then sink into an insignificant and petty republic. Then, and not till then, will those scenes be enacted which have left so deep a stain upon the annals of Italy, and which have rendered a republican form of government so much suspected; and, therefore, so unpopular in most parts of Europe. Yours, &c., J. C. MY DEAR SIR, LETTER XXXVIII. THIS is an old about sixty miles. TO THE SAME. Civita Vecchia, September, 1844. Roman port; distant from Rome At present it belongs to the pope of Rome. But a stranger is not left in uncertainty as to the proprietor. Everywhere, upon every piece of masonry of any importance, or which happens to look a little better than its immediate neighbour, the traveller is annoyed with an array of "gingerbread sculpture," the tiara, keys of St. Peter, &c., with a long, eulogizing inscription to the particular pontiff under whose auspices it was erected or improved. How childish to make such a parade about trifles! It is enough to make the royal family of any throne in Europe "laugh outright" at such priestly vanity. But so it is, so it always has been, and so it is likely to be in all times to come; when the ministers of religion descend from the great and glorious work of soul-saving, to grasp at worldly honour, property, or power, they are generally permitted by God to render themselves ridiculous. We arrived here this morning, and the captain kindly allowed us to spend the day ashore; but he purposes to sail for Naples about sunset. The weather continues charming. Yesterday afternoon we returned to Leghorn from Pisa. Seldom have I contemplated a scene of such beauty and magnificence, as that which presented itself as we proceeded, in a small boat, across the harbour of Leghorn to our steamer. This fine sheet of water reflected, as in a mirror, the cloudless sky, the shipping, and the buildings of the port. To the left, beyond Pisa, the Carrara mountains," the mountains which, from Pisa, shadow Lucca; "-their summits, hoary with years, arose and played along and into the blue unclouded firmament, with purest outline. Never were objects invested with a clearer and purer atmosphere. The sky seemed to be resting down upon the clear outlines of the mountains, rather than the mountains soaring into the clear obscure" of the sky; as if to remind one of those lines of Wordsworth, if I rightly remember:— 66 "Has not the soul, the being of your life, When we ascended the deck, the scene became still |