But below me (behind the Palace, or the Castle) is a modern Postern, through which General Berthier, having encamped his forces on the Monte Mario, penetrated the Papal Citadel, and ascended, without striking a blow, the Capitol of the Cæsars.

SUCH was, and such is, Rome-alike in the tropes of Cicero, and the figures of Gibbon, the Citadel of Nations, and the Metropolis of the Globe-the Eternal City, that survived the Empire of the World, to establish a new dominion

over the Nations of the Earth.

3 K

LETTER XVII.

Sketches of Life and Manners.

'HE Italian Populace is everywhere

THE

idle, rude, and noisy.-In Rome itself, the meanest of the People make way for Nobody, and as they stand chattering upon the narrow footways (where there happens to be any) will oblige the genteelest Passengers to turn into the street-nay, retort upon them, with insolence, if requested to give way, even to a Lady.

Yet, in polite address, the French and English second person plural, and the German third, are in Italy sublimely refined

refined into the feminine gender, and Sir John Brute is struck dumb, on his arrival at Rome, to hear himself ceremoniously announced as sua Excellenza."

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A common Tradesman is designated, in writing, with "Illustrissime, Signor, Signor ;" and the usual form of subscription to a letter of business is, "Your Slave;" that of most humble Servant not being quite abject enough for Italian self-abasement.

The Nobility are Princes-their hous es are Palaces-their Sons are Cæsars, and Scipios-nay their Cooks are "Ministra della Cucina," and their Scullions are "della Famiglia" of such or such a Grandee.

In Rome idle Beggars will stretch themselves quite across the Pavement and force all that pass by to turn out into the mud, or step over their extended limbs-nauseous with real or pretended

ulcers.

In the Porticos of frequented Churches lazy Raggamuffins will sun themselves upon the steps, and pick vermin from their bodies-in a manner that decency forbids me to describe.

The Market Place-a large oblong square, ornamented with sculptured Fountains, under the elegant appellation of Piazza Navona, exhibits twice a week,

an unparalleled scene of uproar and confusion.

Imagine

Imagine the hubbub of ten thousand voices-rough with the jargon of a dozen dialects, and hoarse with incessant outcry, opening at once upon the turn of

a corner.

A Philadelphian would think there was a fire, and that every Man was calling upon his Neighbour to help put it out -No such matter-they are only endeavouring to cheat one another in counting cabbages, or measuring potatoes.

In this interesting operation the Buyer struggles for over-measure, and the Seller shuffles off under-weight, with deafening vociferation.

This amicable mode of interchanging the commodities of life so frequently extends