SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE. "NOTHING succeeds like success,' says the universal voice of Great Britain, speaking from all mouthpieces -especially loud from the great national speakingtrumpet, the Times newspaper. In all departments of human work and human play, Englishmen honour those who are visibly, conspicuously successful. Success is a sort of certificate of merit that every one can read and understand. It is not written in Latin, intelligible only to the few; but it carries the translation of 'doctissimus' and 'optimus' deep into the minds of the crowd. They honour the man who has done the thing he willed to do; quite as often, too, they honour the man who has done a thing he never willed anything about, but which he hit upon by luck,' as men say. To succeed in the world is a sort of religious duty with some folk-the only one they are very assiduous in performing. These people generally do succeed, because to will a thing strongly, to turn our hearts and brains constantly towards an object, is going more than half-way towards the attainment of it. These people are praiseworthy-worthy of the praise they get. To succeed in ever so small an undertaking in life, argues the exercise of certain highly respectable moral and intellectual qualitiescourage, perseverance, patience, self-denial, and intelligent observation and reflection. True, successful people are not always very great or very wise; but it does not become the unsuccessful to disparage their achievements, as they do frequently, while they are sick with envy at the result of these achievements.

The most common objects of so-called success in the world are, to make a fortune, to found a family, or to make one's self famous. It is these objects steadily pursued for many generations by a large proportion of the British people, that has built up and consolidated our material prosperity, and has helped largely in our intellectual and spiritual greatness.

What a Yankee would call the eloquential capabilities' of success in life are great. It would bear a deal of talking about; but we should consider much of what might, could, or would be said in its glorification as mere talking for talking's sake-at all events, in this country, where no one lives upon the fatalism of the Turk, but where we believe that a man, in the common phrase, is the architect of his own fortunes. Practically, all successful men in this country put forth the strength, intellect, and will that are necessary to succeed, and leave the rest to a higher power. They take care to keep their powder dry, and then put their trust in Providence.

The race is not always to the swift, or the battle

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to the strong,' says the proverb. Solomon and other wise old men are gentle-hearted. This saying was meant as a kindly encouragement to the slow and weak, who are really anxious to make the best of their deficiency. The 'always' is their qualifying ray of hope. Let it shine ever before them, and lead them on to the utmost; but let no friend teach them to over-value its promise. It is false kindness which would lead the tortoise to disparage the hare's speed, or make the little Jacks of everyday life believe that giants will be easily overcome by them. God made the laws of nature like those of the Medes and Persians. Fire burns, water drowns a body heavier than itself, you do not gather grapes of thorns, wisdom from fools, nor tender acts from tigers. Let those who contend in the battle and the race rest assured that the strongest and the swiftest must win, if their other qualifications be on a par with those of their opponents. It is only when they are unusually defective in the will or power to turn their superiority to account they can fail. Hence the astonishment of the world when its Samsons and Atalantas are defeated; and the good-natured proverbs that cheer and encourage inferior people. The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.' Not always! So, courage, young Mediocrity! Do your best-it is sure to be worth something to the world, surer still to be worth immortality to your own soul. If you fail when you are doing your best towards God, it will count for you more than ten successes in the eyes of the world.

All honour to the successful man who succeeds, as most men do, by fair means! A successful rogue is rarely successful through a lifetime. The brilliant instances of roguery in the last few years go far to prove that. We are willing to admire the manly energy, courage, and industry which does something in the world. It is a beautiful thing to see a human being succeed in any right work-to see the requisite power put forth in the fittest way, and directed by adequate intelligence. Human skill in exercise has an irresistible charm for men; it is beautiful as well as useful; and we all love it; but we should love it no more than in reason.

The successful men of the world get credit for doing the work of the world. That portion of it that lies on and above the surface they do, in their day and generation; but those who have this visible, tangible something to shew for their labour, generally owe much to the unheard-of labours of their predecessors, who have been their navvies, and dug out rubbish, and laid the firm foundations of their edifices. To labour is the lot of man, and no one gains anything by shirking.

Glory is something superadded to the reward of labour; but the true reward never fails the steady, honest worker whose power is equal to his task. So much work done buys such and such wages-health, peace, and competence. The successful man does more than the ordinary labourer; having more than ordinary means and faculty, he achieves a conspicuous work, and is honoured of men. How is it that the world's successful men are often-not to speak paradoxically -disappointed men? Because happiness or content has not essentially any connection with success in the world. If happiness be our being's end and aim, the successful men of the world do not hit that mark as often as their admirers suppose. Perhaps because these admirers do not draw a distinction we wish to

draw.

Success in the world is a different thing from success in life, although in many instances individuals have attained both. These are they who noble ends by noble means pursue. Still, if the prizes and blanks in the lottery of the world were identical with success or failure in the objects of this earthly existence, it would be a sadder life than it is on this planet of ours, which yet 'goes sobbing through space,' as the poet says. It is not so. Each man and woman among us-the feeblest, the least endowed with good gifts-may live a life, develop his powers to the utmost of his means, and exercise them not all for self. He will then have succeeded in life, done the best with the earthly mantle of his soul; and he will not wish to throw it up in disgust, or say to his Maker, 'Why hast thou formed me thus ?' To quote the expression of Balzac, in speaking of discontent in life and suicide: La vie est un vêtement; quand il est sale on le brosse; quand il est troué on le raccommode; mais on reste vêtu tant qu'on peut.' (Life is a garment; when it is dusty, we brush it; when it is torn, we mend it; but we remain clothed as long as we can.) This is not taking a high view of the matter; it is merely making the best of a bad matter; but the life is no such bad matter as the cynics declare. It is quite possible for mere ordinary folks like you and me to achieve a great success in life, though we are unsuccessful in the world. Greater is he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city. To rule one's own spirit, is to succeed in life-to live royally. Such self-subjection begets love and confidence in others. Women especially cling to those who are self-reliant and modest. It is true that some women love the proud and ambitious man who moves heaven and earth to compass his own honour; but such love is earthly in its nature, and dies out with prosperity or notoriety. Many a great man, too, has been unsuccessful in the world, but has lived successfully, working ever towards a high end, and pioneering the way for those who shall make a successful work before the world. The alchemists of the middle ages were many of them of this class; they did not deem their lives wasted or unsuccessful, though they did not achieve their definite purpose. The true way to succeed in life is to find out what God has fitted us for doing, and to do that as persistently as we can through all the lets and hinderances of our own nature, and the circumstances over which we have no control. We may fail in the special world's work we hoped to do, in the labour we loved; but we can learn to bear the disappointment, and take to something that may prosper with us. We can comfort ourselves by reflecting that another will do better what we had hoped to do, and that we can appreciate his worth, and praise him more meetly than another could who had not laboured in the same field. If we live in this spirit, we can never 'fail' in lifenever sink down to wretchedness and weak despair. It will not make us unhappy to hear the sad laments

of the poets over the mutability of this life; we can listen to Shakspeare's melancholy cry

When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,

That this huge state presenteth nought but shows, &c.— and we can sympathise in it; but not so far as to forget that this rapid passing on from one stage to another of existence is merely a series of developments, of which what we call death is the closing one on earth probably the opening one in another life. Success in this one consists in bearing with intelligent resignation, and working with intelligent energy, all that we are called upon to endure or to do. The two kinds of successful people-those who succeed in the world, and those who succeed in life-meet each with their reward: happy are they who succeed in both.

DROWNED, BUT NOT FOUND. WE are told that such are the numbers of London corpses now conveyed by the Funeral Trains,' that, upon arrival at the necropolises, the coffins get separated, and the processions mixed, so that you are as likely to be following another party as your own dear departed to his or her long home; a misapplication of sentiment sufficiently mortifying when you become aware of it, but not involving any lifelong wretched uncertainty, such as is suggested by the heading of this paper. Fancy the horror, even in the case of our dearest and nearest, of meeting him or her, on a sudden, above ground, whom we had concluded, years ago, to have been under water! Leaving out of the question our being her or his male or female relict, and our having chanced to marry again in the interim, or having published his or her Remains, without the smallest regard to private feelings, and taking the matter under as ordinary circumstances as such a thing can be taken, so that the little rencontre may occur in the most mitigated manner-not by moonlight or by twilight; not in Finsbury Square nor on Salisbury Plain, but-in Cheapside upon a Monday morning, yet how horrible is the bare idea of it! It is doubtful, perhaps, whether broad noonday and crowds of people going about their usual avocations would not heighten, by contrast, the terror of such a sight. As our gaze fell upon him or her, upon the opposite side of the roaring street, whom we had believed to be five fathom five in ocean, and to have suffered a sea-change these many years, how suddenly the hand would drop with which we were receiving our change, or with which we were hailing our omnibus. The poet has truly written that, for the most part, such supposed guests of Pluto (or Davy Jones) would find but an iron welcome upon their return. But supposing that one had been their heir, and had spent the policy of their life-insurance! I wonder what the poet would have said about it then. Having myself been secretary to a life-assurancecompany for many years, I know something about these matters. We, the company, are most unfeignedly distressed at the death of any of our customers, but we feel a satisfaction, melancholy indeed, but still a great satisfaction, in seeing the body, before we pay the piper-the policy. Within the present century, and soon after I was appointed to the Grand National and Provincial Costermongers' Friend Society, occurred the following circumstances: The G. N. P. C. F. S. did not confine itself to benefiting costermongers, of course, but took everybody's life it could get; amongst others, that of a young tinman, name, Robert Noggins, residence, Ipswich; peculiarity, weakness in the left leg-for which he wore an elastic stocking-insurance, four hundred pounds: a large sum for a tinman, we thought, and be sure we stuck it on to the premium, on account of the elastic stocking. He told our

doctor, in answer to the usual questions, that his uncle had died by accident'--tumbled off a tree with a rope round his neck, as we discovered afterwards; and as that sort of disease is in some measure hereditary, we were extra particular.

In rather less than five months after his admission, we received a letter from Joseph Noggins, his cousin and executor, written on mourning note-paper, in a black-edged envelope, with a black wafer:

IPSWICH, November 2. 'GENTLEMEN-I regret to have to inform you that my dear cousin Robert was drowned last evening at Lowestoft, while bathing from off the beach.'

'And was that '--with indignation-'the sole ground upon which they had come into that court and taken oath ?'

'No; the deceased person had remarkably_long nails, and the corpse had very long nails also. There was the mark of an elastic stocking, such as the deceased was known to have worn, still traceable upon the left leg; and fourthly, there was a tooth missing from the lower jaw, and the deceased was known to have had a bottom tooth extracted.'

Our own medical witness then deposed.

Had carefully examined the corpse upon the preceding evening, and did not consider the forehead to be a particularly high one; it was neither a high forehead

So I wrote an answer of condolence to Joseph Noggins, saying that the company would like to shew their respect for the departed, by sending down some trustworthy person to attend the inquest. We were referred, by return of post, to the advertisement columns of the Times, wherein we read that L.25 reward was offered for the recovery of the body of Robert Noggins, and L.2 for that of his watch. The unfortunate deceased, with a sort of foreboding, as it almost seemed, of his affecting end, had lately insured himself for the same amount of L.400 in two other offices besides our own; so that the three companies clubbed together, and instead of replying to the lawyers' letters, which daily arrived, upon the subject of the policy, we sent down a detective officer to Lowestoft.

This was what that gentleman gathered there, upon the sea-shore and other places, sauntering about, as it might be pleasure-seeking: That Robert Noggins had been residing at Lowestoft for a fortnight previous to his untimely death, having been recommended to try sea-bathing for his weak left leg; that he did bathe every day, and sometimes in the morning, not from a machine, but from the beach; that he bathed from the beach as late as seven o'clock upon the 1st of November at high-water, and was never seen afterwards; his clothes were found above high-water mark, but not his watch and not his elastic stocking; moreover, he had taken a great bag with him when he went to bathe; that the fishermen all assert that they have had no experience of a Lowestoft body not being found; that since L.25 had been offered for this particular 'party,' they have done their best both inshore and upon the sandbanks, and believe the melancholy event to be all gammon. To this opinion, our detective, in conclusion, cordially assents. The three companies accordingly resisted Cousin Joseph's several claims, in the absence of more certain proofs of Robert's demise, and received, in due course, notice of action.

After an interval of six weeks, a letter arrives from the enemy's solicitor, with news that the body is found -found in the river Humber, at Kingston-upon-Hull, and the inquest is to be held upon it on the following day. Off I start, within an hour, northward, by express train, in company with two of our clerks; the distance is so great that fast as we travel, we don't arrive at Kingston in time. The inquest is closed. We have an interview with the coroner, and he declines to interfere. The cousin of the deceased and two intimate friends have identified the body upon oath, and every legal regulation has been complied with. Then said we: We suspect fraud;' and laid before him our reasons for suspecting it. At last, he consented to the reopening of the inquest for one day; in the meantime, and unknown to the other party, we got permission for a neighbouring surgeon to examine the corpse very particularly; we got counsel, the next morning, to cross-examine the witnesses very particularly also. 'How did they identify the deceased person?' 'By his forehead, which was a remarkably high one.'

stocking upon the left leg, so far as he (witness) could observe, at all; with regard to the length of the nails, the corpse had not any nails whatever (sensation); nevertheless, the action of water during a long period, which had destroyed the nails, had bared the skin beneath in such a manner as to give the appearance of long nails, perhaps, to a superficial observer. Fourthly, had examined the lower jaw very minutely; and although there was a space between the middle teeth, it arose from a decayed tooth whose stump was still remaining; no tooth in the bottom row had ever been extracted.

Our counsel pressed these contradictory assertions upon the attention of the jury, and commented upon the exceeding improbability of a body drowned at Lowestoft finding its way past the Wash and other convenient inlets to Kingston-upon-Hull. Finally, he threw out the delicate suggestion that Joseph Noggins, being, as we had discovered, a sexton, had opportunities of setting bodies afloat which were not enjoyed by everybody. All this opposed to the fact that the cousin and the two friends still swore to the similitude of their dear departed as stoutly as ever, so bewildered the jury, that they returned an open verdict, to the effect that there was not sufficient evidence to establish the identity of the body.

On the next day, the corpse was interred with considerable pomp, its three identifiers in deep mourning and tears following it in three funeral-coaches to the church-yard. One thing only was wanting to prove their entire conviction that it was poor Robert Noggins and no other, and that was, that they resolutely refused to pay the fisherman who found it the L.25 reward advertised for its recovery; and under these circumstances, the G. N. P. C. F. S. considers itself also justified in not paying the policy.

FROM ANCONA TO LORETTO. THE famous Santa Casa, or holy house of Loretto, has long been recognised as the principal attraction of the Marche; indeed, it is so well known to tourists, that I should have left my excursion thither unrecorded, had not this omission rendered my picture of local manners and customs incomplete.* Little as the Anconitans are given to locomotion, I never met an instance of one who had not visited the shrine at least once in his or her life, whilst many make it a point of conscience to repair thither every year. The distance from Ancona by the high-road is twenty miles-a journey of five hours, in that country of steep hills and slow coaches; but travellers are generally disposed to overlook the tedium of the way in their admiration of the scenery it discloses. Few, however, have any conception of the still more picturesque features of the circuitous route through which, one lovely evening in June, we pursued our pilgrimage to Loretto.

There was nothing very original or brilliant in our

*See Chambers's Journal, Nos. 151, 166, 187.

party. The V-family-the same with whom we went to the rural christening-joined the expedition, too adventurous for any of our Italian friends; the consul, the Chevalier V, this time escorting his wife and lively Polish daughters, very proud, as he protested, of the charge my uncle had delegated to him as his representative towards my cousins and unworthy self. He was a good man, that dear chevalier, in every acceptation of the term, but his sphere was certainly not a scrambling gipsying enterprise, such as we contemplated, and his presence would have proved hopelessly depressing, had it not been for the antidote furnished by the indomitable spirits of a lieutenant and two little midshipmen belonging to an English frigate lying in the harbour, who had obtained permission to accompany us. The fair hair and ruddy cheeks of the middies, reminding Madame V of her own absent boys, had pleaded irresistibly in their favour; their extreme juvenility too, she argued, screened her from any breach of the convenances she was always so solicitous to maintain. As to the young lieutenant, he was a married man, carried about his baby's likeness in a locket, and spent fabulous sums in presents for his wife. No anxiety could therefore be felt on his score, no dread of exciting the remonstrances of a certain black-browed parish priest, who, I very well know, left the poor lady no peace on the impropriety of throwing her daughters into the temptations of English male heretical society.

It had been arranged that we should walk the first five miles of the way, with the exception of the consolessa, who was provided with a donkey, as far as an unoccupied country-house, kindly placed at our disposal by its owners; thence, after needful rest and refreshment, we were to ascend the Monte d'Ancona, a lofty mountain, famed for a Trappist convent on its summit, and a magnificent range of prospect. To reach the top before daybreak, in order to see the sun rise, was an essential feature in our programme; it was the only subject connected with nature on which the Anconitans ever shewed any enthusiasm. Several of our acquaintances had, in their youth, they told us, braved the exertion and loss of rest to witness the levata del sole from the mount. Others regretted they had not the energy to attempt it. None ridiculed our undertaking. I felt very curious to behold what awoke such unusual admiration.

We were all in a cheerful mood, and not a little diverted, as we passed through the narrow streets on our way to the gate, at the astonishment excited by the appearance of Madame V on a very antiquated chair-saddle, upon her long-eared steed. The people flocked to look at her with unrestrained curiosity, till the consul turned suddenly round, and apostrophising the gazers, inquired sternly, whether they considered the foreign custom of riding upon an ass more wonderful than their own of being driven by a cow. The justness of this reasoning, or rather the energy with which it was enunciated, having produced an instantaneous effect in the dispersion of the crowd, we were suffered to proceed unmolested, followed by a second donkey laden with provisions.

Our route, immediately after quitting the town, lay near the cliffs forming the line of coast behind the promontory on which Ancona is built, in singular contrast to the sandy beach extending northward towards Sinigaglia and Pesaro. Sometimes the road quite skirted the edge of the precipice, and deviating from the undulations of the cliffs, would change the marine to a pastoral landscape, and lead to paths shaded by trees and flowering hedges, admitting occasional glimpses of mountains in the distance.

For the next two or three miles, our course lay entirely between hedges, screening the possessioni, or small farms, into which the land is subdivided from

the road. It was rapidly growing dark; for it must not be forgotten there is no twilight in Italy, and the moon was not yet visible; so we had nothing to do but admire the fireflies which the midshipmen ruthlessly persisted in ensnaring in their caps and handkerchiefs, or laugh at the efforts of l'officier marié, as our friends had named the young lieutenant, to sustain a conversation in French. No fear of robbers crossed our minds; the consul and our countrymen were armed, it is true, but more as a security against danger in the vicinity of Loretto, than in the unfrequented districts we were traversing, where there were no travellers or wealthy householders to attract the gangs which swarmed on the papal highways.

At last, after the consul's lamentations on the weariness of the way began to find an echo in our own hearts, we emerged from a narrow path, shut in by steep banks, upon the casino. But it was not on its open doors, or the hospitable lights kindling for our reception, that our eyes were turned. I do not remember being ever so enchanted by any view as that now presented to us. I know not whether daylight would rob it of any portion of its beauty and soothing influence; I can only speak of it as it impressed me then-so calm, so pure, so still. We were standing on the verge of a lofty cliff that stretched precipitously forward like a crescent, and formed a bay on whose waters the moon, which had just risen, poured a flood of trembling silvery light; while on one side, dark, ominous, and frowning, rose the mount, projecting far into the sea, and towering in its sullen grandeur above the rippling waves which bore their snowy wreaths of foam in tribute to its feet. Clear and defined against the moonlit sky, with no trees or verdure to clothe its rocky steeps, there was something inexpressibly sublime in the aspect of this mountain, and the lonely character of the surrounding scenery. No sound invaded the perfect quietude of the hour except the reverential murmur of the sea, and faintly in the distance, the voices of some fishermen, whose barks were gliding forth, their sails filling with the evening breeze, and glistening in the moonbeams.

had

The preparations for supper were soon completed. The peasants left in charge of the house had eggs, and fruit and wine in readiness, and Madame Vtaken care that our donkey's panniers should contain all the substantial requisites for a repast. The midshipmen delightedly superintended the laying of the cloth, and then summoned us to table, where their bibations of the sparkling Muscatel profusely supplied, did credit to the excellence of our friend the conte's vintage.

When the meal was over, the old contadina, who officiated as housekeeper, her Sunday costume and strings of pearls donned in honour of our visit, recommended us to take a little sleep before midnight, at which hour we were to set out for the mount in birocci-those primitive-shaped carts drawn by oxen or cows that I have elsewhere minutely described. This reasonable advice the consul forthwith enforced by example as well as precept, and was soon slumbering sonorously on a sofa in the dining-room. Not feeling inclined to follow his admonitions while the moonlight shone almost as bright as day, we all preferred exploring the casino and strolling in its vicinity, accompanied by the dear patient consolessa, who evidently did not think the convenances permitted her to lose sight of us, and consequently protested that she was not in the least fatigued.

The house was soon looked over. No arm-chairs, no couches, no ottomans; nothing but stiff highbacked cane sofas, that seemed intended for anything but repose. There was a billiard-room, and a little chapel, or rather recess, divided by a pair of folding-doors from the principal sitting-room, where mass was celebrated when the family were in the

country but we could discover no books or traces of aught resembling a library. In fact, as I have before remarked, as most Italians consider reading a study, and have no idea of it as a recreation, all appliances thereto are generally left behind when they come professedly in search of health and mental relaxation to their vileggiature. From six weeks to two months is the utmost amount of time they devote for this purpose. What with looking after their farms and a little shooting, the men get through this period with tolerable satisfaction; to the ladies, it is always fraught

with intense ennui.

The resources of floriculture with rare exceptions, are unknown to the women of the Marche. There was one lady of rank in Ancona who had laid out a garden at one of her country-houses with considerable taste. It was the only innovation I witnessed upon the orthodox quadrangular enclosure, fenced in by high walls with espaliers of lemons, and little three-cornered flower-beds, intersected by gravel-paths, which graced a few of the casini of the wealthiest proprietors. Her example, however, found no imitators; and with a soil and climate exquisitely adapted for their cultivation, flowers receive less attention and seem less prized in the Roman states than in any other part of Italy. Here, in this secluded villa, where the interest and occupation attendant on such a pursuit would have beguiled the weariness of the contessa's banishment from the fleas, bad smells, and stifling atmosphere which render Ancona, during the hottest months, a somewhat questionable Elysium, a small wood adjoining the house, a few rose-bushes planted round cabbages, and two or three cobwebby arbours, were all the evidences of ornamental gardening we could trace.

About midnight, we heard the slow dragging of wheels, and presently the peasants of the possessione came up with two birocci to the gate. Mattresses were then placed at the bottom of each, on which we were to sit; and after Madame V had carefully arranged the cloaks and shawls her prudent care foresaw would erelong be necessary, we took our places, and in good earnest commenced the ascent. Before long, the extraordinary and unnecessary steepness of the road became apparent. With a singular defiance of all engineering, it was carried abruptly up to the tops of hills, merely to descend with corresponding rapidity on the other side, reminding me more of the Russian sliding mountains than any other illustration I can think off, and occasionally becoming so disagreeably perpendicular, and so distressing to the poor cows, which panted loudly at every step, that we often preferred getting out to walk, to overtasking their strength and risking our own safety.

When the moon went down, the air became chill, and all of us gave tokens of weariness. As it approached three o'clock, our conductors, pointing to a faint break in the horizon, urged us to hasten our steps, as day would soon be dawning. Thus admonished, a few minutes of brisk walking brought us to the top of the mountain, which, so far as we could distinguish in the dull grayness pervading every object, was an irregular platform, on three sides overhanging the sea, and on the fourth commanding a wide dark boundless expanse, on which the blackness of night still rested. A little lower down, in a sheltered hollow, amid dusky groves of evergreen, cold, stern, and desolate, rose the white walls of the celebrated Trappist monastery. The strange tales current of the austerities of its inmates and of the disappointment or remorse which had driven them to its seclusion, seemed appropriate to the surrounding gloom and the spectral aspect of the building, when the tones of the matin-bell broke the oppressive silence that prevailed, and the Ave Maria del giorno summoned the monks to their orisons in the choir. Our guides, reverently

uncovering, made the sign of the cross, and then flung themselves weariedly upon the ground, screened by a low parapet from the wind, which circled in keen gusts around; while we look forth upon the sea, and the glowing light that was stealing fast upon it.

Brighter and brighter grows that radiance, until, as by the lifting of a veil, the distant peaks of the mountains on the opposite Dalmatian shores become distinctly visible, thrown into bold relief by the illuminated background, and we span the breadth and borders of the beauteous Adriatic. Fleeting as a dream is that unwonted spectacle, for lo! the glorious sun has leaped upwards from his mountain-bed, and the glad waters quiver and exult beneath his presence. Higher and higher still he rises, and Night flies scared before him, as if seeking a refuge in that vague dim space where yet she holds her sway. It is a wondrous contrast, the golden sparkling sea, and sable land, nature's mingled waking and repose-but short-lived as wondrous, for like the gradual uprolling of a scroll, so does the darkness recede which covers the face of the fair and wide-spread prospect; and hamlets and towns, hills and valleys, fields thick with corn, olive trees and vineyards, seem to start into being while we gaze.

The peasants pointed out exultingly a number of towns distinguishable with the naked eye-Osimo, Loretto, Recanati, Macerata, besides many others, all with an individual history of their own, in feudal times having boasted an independent existence, and waged petty wars with each other. Nearly a hundred towns and villages are said to be discernible from this height; but it was not on any of these in particular that the attention of a stranger would be admiringly directed, but rather to the grand panoramic effect of the whole, bounded by its unrivalled background of Apennines, rising in terrace-like succession, till the last range blended with the clouds.

After nearly an hour's survey-it was much longer according to the chevalier's impatient calculation, in which he was abetted by the midshipmen-we prepared to depart. After bidding farewell to our birocci, we descended upon the opposite side of the mount on foot, accompanied only by a boy to act as guide, and not without casting many lingering looks at the convent, and longing for a glimpse of those white-robed monks, who-each isolated in his own cell, and occupied in the cultivation of the patch of ground whence he derives his subsistence-holding no communion of speech without the permission of the superior, except on three great festivals in the year, and never permitted to go beyond the walls of the convent, have voluntarily delivered themselves to a foretaste of the silence and confinement of the tomb.

An hour's quick walking brought us to Umana, where carriages were to be in readiness to convey us across the country to Loretto. Formerly of some importance as an episcopal see, Umana is now reduced to a mere harbour for fishing-boats; still, however, containing some handsome though halfruined buildings, and having its grass-grown piazza, dingy caffè, and aristocratic loungers. The bishopric has been merged in that of Ancona, but the palace yet remains, in readiness for an occasional pastoral visitation. We had been courteously promised we should find it open for our reception; and dusty, tired, and hungry, we were glad to cross its threshold. But before allowing us to sit down, the old couple who had charge of the palazzo insisted on conducting us through all the apartments, that we might see the best accommodation they had to offer was placed at our disposal. Accordingly, we were forced to perambulate long corridors and innumerable rooms full of doors, opening one into the other, through which it seemed vain to search for one that was not simply