considerably in my own estimation. In proportion as this feeling took possession of me, I experienced an involuntary respect for the stranger. I admired his intimate knowledge of balls, dresses, faux pas, marriages, and gossip of all sorts and still more I admired his bulk. I have an instinctive feeling of reverence towards "Stout Gentlemen ;" and, while contrasting my own puny form with his, I laboured under a deep consciousness of personal insignificance. From being five feet eight, I seemed to shrink to five feet one; from weighing ten stones, I suddenly fell to seven and a half; while my portly rival sat opposite to me, measuring at least a foot taller than myself, and weighing good thirty stones, jockey weight. If any little fellow like me thinks of standing well with his mistress, let him never appear in her presence with such a gentleman as Mr Tims. She will despise him to a certainty; nor, though his soul be as large as Atlas or Teneriffe, will it compensate for the paltry dimensions of his body. What was to be done? With the ladies, it was plain, I could do nothing: with Mr Tims, it was equally plain, I ought to do nothing-seeing that, however much he was the cause of my uneasiness, he was at least the innocent cause, and therefore neither morally nor judicially amenable to punishment. His offence was unpremeditated; the reverse of what lawyers call malice prepense, and consequently not a penal one. It is all very well, however, to talk of morality and legality. When a man's passions are up, his sense of justice is asleep, and all idea of rectitude hidden in the blinded impulse of indig nation. From respecting Mr Tims I came to hate him; and I vowed in ternally, that, rather than be annihilated by this enlarged edition of Daniel Lambert, I would pitch him over the window. Had I been a giant, am sure I would have done it on the spot. The giants of old, it is well known, raised Pelion upon Ossa, in their efforts to scale the throne of heaven; and tossed enormous mountains at the godhead of Jupiter him self. Unfortunately for me, Mr Tims was a mountain, and I was no giant. I Under these circumstances, there was no help for me but to march off, and take myself away from such a scene of annoyance. It was plain, I was no longer the "lion" of the night, but a feeble star dwindled into shade before the presence of a more glorious luminary-the ladies ceased to worship at my deserted shrine. I accordingly got up, and, pretending it was necessary that I should see some person in the next street, abruptly left the room. Julia-I did not expect it-saw me to the door, shook hands with me, and said she hoped I would return to supper when my business was finished. Sweet girl! was it possible she could prefer the Man-Mountain to me? Away I went into the open air. I had no business whatever to perform: it was mere fudge; and I resolved to go home as fast as I could. But I did not go home. On the contrary, I kept strolling about from street to street, sometimes thinking upon Julia, sometimes upon Mr Tims. The night was of the most melancholy description-a cold, cloudy, windy, rainy December night. Not a soul was upon the streets excepting a solitary straggler, returning hither and thither from an evening sermon, or an occasional watchman gliding past with his lantern, like an incarnation of the Will-o'-wisp. I strolled up and down for half an hour, wrapped in an olive great-coat, and having a green silk umbrella over my head. It was well I chanced to be so well fortified against the weather; for had it been otherwise, I must have been drenched to the skin. Where I went I know not, so deeply was my mind wound up in its various melancholy cogitations. This, however, I do know, that, after striking against sundry lamp-posts, and overturning a few old women in my fits of absence, I found myself precisely at the point from which I set out, viz. at the door of Julia's aunt's husband's house. I paused for a moment, uncertain whether to enter, and, in the meantime, turned my eyes to the window, where, upon the white blind, I beheld the enormous shadow of a human being. My flesh crept with horror on witnessing this apparition, for I knew it to be the shadow of the Man-Mountain-the dim reflection of Mr Tims. No other human being could cast such a shade. Its proportions were magnificent, and filled up the whole breadth of the window-screen; nay, the shoul ders shot away latterly beyond its utmost limits, and were lost in space, having apparently nothing whereon to cast their mighty image. On beholding this vast shade, my mind was filled with a thousand exalted thoughts. I was carried away in imagination to the mountain solitudes of the earth. I saw Mont Blanc lifting his white, bald head, into cold immensity, and flinging the gloom of his gigantic presence over the whole sweep of the vale of Chamouni-that vale in which the master-mind of Coleridge composed the sublimest hymn ever sung, save by the inspired bards of Israel. I was carried away to the far off South sea, where, at sunset, the Peak of Teneriffe blackens the ocean for fifteen miles with his majestic shadow dilated upon the waves. Then the snowy Chimborazo cleaving the sky with his wedgelike shoulders, arose before me; and the exalted summit of volcanic Cotopaxi-both glooming the Andes with shade. Then Ida, and Pindus, and Olympus, were made visible to my spirit. I beheld the fauns and satyrs bounding and dancing in the shadows of these classic mountains, while the Grecian maids walked in beauty along their sides, singing to their full-toned lyres, and perchance discoursing of love, screened from the noontide sun. Then I flew away to the vales of Scot land-to Corrichoich, cooled by the black shade of Morven ; to the GREAT GLEN, where, at sunset and sunrise, the image of Bennevis lies reflected many a rood upon its surface, and the Lochy murmurs under a canopy of mountain cloud. I paused at the door for sometime, uncertain whether to enter; at last my mind was made up, and I knocked, resolved to encounter the Man-Mountain a second time, and, if possible, recover the lost glances of Julia. On entering the dining-room, I found an accession to the company in the person of our landlord, who sat opposite to Mr Tims, listening to some facetious story which the latter gentleman seemed in the act of relating. He had come home during my absence, and, like his wife and her niece, appeared to be fascinated by the eloquence and humour of his stout friend. At least, so I judged, for he merely recognised my presence by a slight bow, and devoted the whole of his attention to the owner of the mighty shadow. Julia and her aunt were similarly occupied, and I was more neglected than ever. I felt horribly annoyed. There was a palpable injustice in the whole case, which to me was utterly unendurable; and my wrath boiled over in fierce but bootless vehemence. The subjects on which the company conversed were various, but the staple theme was love. Mr Tims related some of his own love adventures, which were, doubtless, sufficiently amusing, if we may judge by the shouts of laughter they elicited from all the party-myself only excepted. Perhaps the reader may think that there was something ludicrous in the idea of such a man being in love. Not at all-the notion was sublime; almost as sublime as his shadow-almost as overwhelming as his person. Conceive the Man-Mountain playing the amiable with a delicate young creature like Julia. Conceive him falling on his knees before her-pressing her delicate hand, and "popping the question," while his large round eyes shed tears of affection and suspense, and his huge sides shook with emotion! Conceive him enduring all the pangs of love-sickness-never telling his love; "concealment, like a worm in the bud, preying upon his damask cheek," while his hard-hearted mistress stood disdainfully by, "like pity on a monument, smiling at grief." Above all, conceive him taking the lover's leapsay from Dunnet or Duncansby-head, where the rocks tower four hundred feet above the Pentland Firth, and floundering in the waters like an enormous whale; the herring shoals hurrying away from his unwieldy gambols, as from the presence of the real sea-born leviathan. Cacus in love was not more grand, or the gigantic Polyphemus, sighing at the feet of Galatea, or infernal Pluto looking amiable beside his ravished queen. Have you seen an elephant in love? If you have, you may conceive what Mr Tims would be in that interesting situation. Supper was brought in. It consisted of eggs, cold veal, bacon-ham, and a Welsh rabbit. I must confess, that, perplexed as I was by all the previous events of the evening, I felt a gratification at the present moment, in the anxiety to see how the ManMountain would comport himself at table. I had beheld his person and his shadow with equal admiration, and I doubted not that his powers of eating were on the same great scale as his other qualifications.-They were indeed. Zounds, how he did eat! Milo of Crotona, who could kill an ox with a blow of his fist, and devour it afterwards, was nothing to him; I felt as if he could consume a whole flock of oxen. He was a Cyclops, a Pantagruel, a Gargantua: his stomach resembled the sieve of the homicidal daughters of Danaus; it was insatiable. Cold veal, eggs, bacon-ham, and Welsh rabbit, disappeared "like the baseless fabric of a vision, and left not a wreck behind;" so thoroughly had nine-tenths of them taken up their abode in the bread basket (vide Jon Bee) of the Man-Mountain; the remaining tenth sufficed for the rest of the company, viz. Julia, her aunt, her aunt's husband, and myself. Liquor was brought in, to wit, wine, brandy, whisky, and rum. I felt an intense curiosity to see on which of the four Mr Tims would fix his choice. He fixed upon brandy, and made a capacious tumbler of hot toddy. I did the same, and asked Julia to join me in taking a single glass-I was forestalled by the Man-Mountain. I then asked the lady of the house the same thing, but was forestalled by her husband. These repeated disappointments overwhelmed me with rage and despair; and to add to my other pangs, the fiend of Jealousy, wreathed with snakes like the Fury Tisiphone, appeared before me-for I noticed Julia and Mr Tims interchanging mu tual glances, and blushing deeply when detected. The Man-Mountain was, after all, a person of sensibility a man of fine feelings-a reader doubt less of the Sketch Book-subject to fits of melancholy, and very sentimental. Meanwhile, the evening wearing on, the ladies retired, and Mr Tims, the landlord, and myself, were left to ourselves. This was the signal for a fresh assault upon the brandy-bottle. Another tumbler was made- then another-then a fourth. At this period Julia appeared at the door, and beckoned upon the landlord, who arose from table, saying he would rejoin us immediately. Mr Tims and I were thus left alone, and so we continued, for the landlord-strange to say-did not again appear. What be came of him I know not. I supposed he had gone to bed, and left his great friend and myself to pass the time as we were best able. We were now commencing our fifth tumbler, and I began to feel my whole spirit pervaded by the most delightful sensations. My heart beat quicker, my head sat more lightly than usual upon my shoulders; and sounds like the distant hum of bees, or the music of the spheres, heard in echo afar off, floated around me. There was no bar between me aud perfect happiness, but the Man-Mountain, who sat on the great elbow-chair opposite, drinking his brandy-toddy, and occasionally humming an old song with the utmost indifference. It was plain that he despised me. While any of the others were present he was abundantly loquacious, but now he was as dumb as a fish-tippling in silence, and answering such questions as I put to him in abrupt monosyllables. The thing was intolerable, but I saw into it: Julia had played me false; the "Mountain" was the man of her choice, and I his despised and contemptible rival. These ideas passed rapidly through my mind, and were accompanied with myriads of others. I bethought me of every thing connected with Mr Tims-his love for Julia-his ele phantine dimensions, and his shadow, huge and imposing as the image of the moon against the orb of day, during an eclipse. Then I was transported away to the Arctic sea, where I saw him floundering many a rood, "hugest of those that swim the ocean stream." Then he was a Kraken fish, outspread like an island upon the deep: then a mighty black cloud affrighting the mariners with its presence: then a flying island, like that which greeted the bewildered eyes of Gulliver. At last he resumed his human shape, and sat before me like "Andes, giant of the Western Star," tippling the jorum, and sighing deeply. Yes, he sighed profoundly, passionately, tenderly; and the sighs came from his breast like blasts of wind from the cavern of Eolus. By Jove, he was in love; in love with Julia! and I thought it high time to probe him to the quick. "Sir," said I," you must be conscious that you have no right to love Julia. You have no right to put me. your immense body between her and "Were your reasons as weighty as your person, you shall not love her." "She shall be mine," responded he, with a deeply-drawn sigh. "You cannot, at least, prevent her image from being enshrined in my heart. No, Julia! even when thou descendest to the grave, thy remembrance will cause thee to live in my imagination, and I shall thus write thine elegy: I cannot deem thee dead-like the perfumes Arising from Judea's vanished shrines Thy voice still floats around me-nor can tombs A thousand, from my memory hide the lines Of beauty, on thine aspect which abode, Like streaks of sunshine pictured there by God. She shall be mine," continued he in the same strain. "Prose and verse shall woo her for my lady-love; and she shall blush and hang her head in modest joy, even as the rose when listening to the music of her beloved bulbul beneath the stars of night." These amorous effusions, and the tone of insufferable affectation with which they were uttered, roused my corruption to its utmost pitch, and I exclaimed aloud, "Think not, thou revivification of Falstaff-thou enlarged edition of Lambert-thou folio of humanity-thou Titan-thou Briareus-thou Sphynx-thou Goliath of Gath, that I shall bend beneath thy ponderous insolence!" The Mountain was amazed at my courage: I was amazed at it myself; but what will not love, inspired by brandy, effect? "No," continued I, seeing the impression my words had produced upon him, "I despise thee, and defy thee, even as Hercules did Antæus, as Sampson did Harapha, as Orlando did Ferragus. Bulk without spirit vast,' I fear thee not-come on." So saying, I rushed onward to the Mountain, who arose from his seat to receive me. The following passage from the Agoof our encounter. nistes of Milton will give some idea "As with the force of winds and waters pent, When mountains tremble, these two With horrible convulsion to and fro, The whole roof after them, with burst Upon the heads of all who sat beneath." "Psha!" said Julia, blushing modestly, "can't you let me go?"-Sweet Julia! I had got her in my arms. "But where," said I, "is Mr Tims?" "Mr who?" said she. "The Man-Mountain." "Mr Tims!-Man-Mountain !" resumed Julia, with unfeigned sur. prise. "I know of no such persons. How jocular you are to night-not to say how ill-bred, for you have been asleep for the last five minutes!" "Sweet-sweet Julia!" A MODERN PYTHAGOREAN. SKETCHES OF ITALY AND THE ITALIANS, WITH REMARKS ON ANTIQUITIES AND FINE ARTS. (Continued.) XX. ARRIVAL IN ROME. I ARRIVED in Rome on the fourth of January, a bright winter Sunday, about noon. I had passed the night at Monte Rosi, three stages from the metropolis. Near Baccano, I percei ved that the carriage was bounding and rattling over a stony road. "What is that?" I called out to the vetturino. "An antiquity, Signor !-the remains of the Via Cassia."-" And why do you drive so fast over this jolting road?"-"The air is bad here, Signor! and the road is dangerous. A carriage was plundered the day before yesterday, in broad daylight, a few hundred paces hence."" Go on.""Look, Signor! there hang the arms of a criminal, on each side the road; farther on, another pair; and yesterday we passed three or four pairs in the dark." riage window, I beheld the wasted Looking through the car flesh and protruding bones of human arms nailed upon lofty poles. A young priest, who was passing by, crossed himself under each pole. What is that priest about?" I enquired of the vetturino." He is praying for the souls of the murdered, who departed this life without confession, and without the last unction."-" And why not rather for the souls of the assassins?" "They repented and confessed before death, and were saved." Farther on I saw the priest kneel down upon a stone with gestures of deep humility: the vetturino anticipated my enquiry by saying, "On that stone, Signor! sat St Ignatius when the holy virgin appeared to him.” During the last stage, I quitted my vehicle to obtain a better first view of Rome than a carriage window could afford me. At every step the campagna became more arid, the surrounding landscape more naked and desolate; and a few pallid beggars alone announced a contiguous metropolis. The road was here a gentle acclivity; the vetturino gave me a sign; suddenly I saw Rome expanded before me in the distant hollow; and, as the devious and now descending road wound between the hills, I gradually distinguished the glossy cupolas and time-stained walls; the pines and cypresses; the white villas embosomed in dark green foliage; the yellow stream; the crosses, arches, obelisks, and columns of the "Eternal City." Approaching the Porta del Popolo, I met a number of well-dressed pedes trians. The Corso was crowded with the gay world, many of whom gazed with curious eyes into my vehicle, in a corner of which I endeavoured to conceal my dusty garments and myself. The first antique building I discovered within the walls, was the front of the Basilica Antonina, behind which my luggage was examined. And now, while the idlers gazed, and begging hands surrounded me, the Facchine began to contend for my luggage, valets de place presented the cards of various hotels; and, ere long, I was welcomed by a German landlord in the Via Condotti, and cordially greeted by an old friend and countryman on the staircase. XXI. ROMAN FESTIVALS IN AUGUST. THE illuminations and fireworks in the Mausoleum of Augustus commence on the first Sunday after the festival of St Peter, and continue every Sunday evening until the end of August. On the last four Sundays, the Piazza Navona is inundated, and on each Monday following, the bull-fights take place in the Mausoleum of Augustus. The Romans call the fire works Fochetti; the inundation is termed Il Lago di Piazza Navona; the fights with oxen, bulls, and buffaloes, are called Giostre di giovenchi, tori, e buffoli. I went to view the piazza Navona about five in the afternoon. In the centre of this nearly oval piazza is a large fountain, adorned with an obelisk and four reclining colossal figures, which personify the four principal rivers in the world, and were designed by Bernini. The water streams abundantly from the urns of these rivergods, until a third of the piazza, which inclines towards the fountain, is about two feet deep in water. Each Monday morning the water is drawn off, and the place remains dry during the week. It was the hour of the evening promenade when I arrived there. The dry portion of the piazza was covered with booths and spectators; the surrounding windows, and the broad steps of the church of St Agnes, were occupied with gazers; and every eye was fixed upon the lake, which was crowded with numerous groups in vehicles of every class, from the state-coach to the hay-cart, besides equestrians, ledhorses, and donkies innumerable. In or out of this dirty puddle, the company ride and drive round the piazza until sunset; the horses neigh with delight in this cooling foot bath, and the scene is varied and enlivened by the festive attire of the more opulent peasants and farmers, who bring their families in large hay- waggons to partake of this illustrious refreshment in the company of princes and nobles. Such is this festive inundation, in which some worshippers of the antique see the relics of a Roman Naumachia. For this motley scene the Corso is deserted, and not a soul remains on Monte Pincio, except perhaps some hypochondriacal Englishman. Soon as the darkness permits, the lamps are lighted in the Mausoleum |