tions. But the ancient Collections in this part of Italy have been so thinned by Parisian requisitions, that I have generally spared myself the probable mortification and disappointment that might attend an inquiry for what is no longer to be found.

Yet in the tribune of the Cathedral of Bologna may still be seen the Annunciation of the Angel Gabriel to the Virgin of the House of David-the last flight of the expiring genius of Ludovico Carracci.

In the year 1529, the Emperor Charles the Fifth was crowned king of Lombardy, by Pope Clement VII. within the gloomy walls of the Church of St. Petronius. It is a Gothic edifice which has been erected near the Town-House (that the Patron Saint might be at hand, for the protec

tion of the Government.) In it is an old wooden image of the tutelary god, before which a glimmering lamp is kept continually burning; though on the floor beneath it is traced, in brass and marble, the meridian line of Cassini, which, from June to January, marks the point of midday.

The front of this vast pile, like those of many other Italian churches, is still unfinished-possibly because the intended incrustation was too costly to be executed -but more probably because the Priests. of the Virgin and her Saints have found it convenient to keep a constant object for the contributions of the Devout.

In the Square before it is a magnificent Fountain, with a colossal Statue of Neptune,

tune, a celebrated work of Giovanni di Bologna, another Son of the Place, in the happiest period of the Arts.

Without the walls there is a Convent, on the top of a mountain, which boasts a miraculous Image-one of the Madonna's of St. Luke. A covered passage leads to it from the gates of the town, said to be three miles in length.

We ascended this gallery, the day after our arrival, noticing as we passed the pious Individuals, and holy Fraternities, who had purchased the privilege of inscribing their names, for the veneration of Posterity, by erecting one or more of its innumerable arcades.

From

From the windows of the Convent the Fathers enjoy an unbounded view over the plains of Lombardy, sprinkled with villages and towns; and a sight of the rising hillocks of the Appenines, here exactly resembling the waves of a troubled sea, suddenly transfixed and motionless.

Next morning a new Vettorino, with whom I had made the customary agreement, without stipulating to have the carriage to ourselves, called us up, before day-light, to set out for Florence.

We were soon ready, and happy to find but one Person in the Voiture, with whom we conversed familiarly till daybreak-Judge of our surprise, when we found it was the very Monk to whom

I had so ungraciously refused a passage from Milan.

I excused the unfavorable circumstance, as well as I could; and the meek Religious declared himself satisfied with my reasons, though he had suffered by them severely, having fallen among a Company of French Players, with whom he had been kept shut up all day, and almost all night, ever since.

We now however jogged along together upon the most friendly terms imaginable. When we chose to refresh ourselves upon the road, the Father was spokesman and paymaster; and when he, in his corner, muttered over a prayerbook, or bowed to the right and left to the Blessed Virgin, or the sign of the

cross,