per.

remain, they bring a whole brook into the city, in a single aqueduct, and after supplying all the wants and luxuries of the inhabitants of every description, after exhibiting it in a thousand charming forms; millions of tons of water are hourly poured and wasted away in the Tiber.One single fountain, that of Trevi, the most magnificent in the world, wastes as much water as would supply any ordinary city; but it is a rich and luxuriant waste, it cools and refreshes the air in şummer; it cleanses their streets, and it exhibits the most enchanting spectacle, which Europe can boast. That I am not singular in these sentiments, is cer tain, because within 40 years, and since the laws of fluid have been fectly known, the city of Montpelier, in France, with the aid of the province of Languedoc, have made a vast aqueduct on Roman principles, supported by double rows of arcades, one over each other, and conveying the water of a lake for more than seven miles to that city; when arrived at the city, it is suffered to form little lakes, cool, refreshing, grateful, luxurious. Not like the paltry aqueduct of Boston, conveying its streams through reeds or quills, and of which you are even then, frequently deprived; but descending in torrents, with a noise and freshness, that at once delights and astonishes! The remains of the aqueducts at Rome, besides those which supply the city at present, are the most considerable and extensive relicks of ancient grandeur. In whatever quarter of the environs you ramble, you encounter these vast piles, lifting their massive heads on high,and stretching beyond your view. They are still in high preservation.

Connected with their aqueducts were their baths. No people were more luxurious in this article,

than the Romans. Possessing a country whose climate is peculiarly enervating in summer, and in which putrid diseases would undoubtedly be generated, without the greatest attention to cleanliness. The Romans, wise as they were noble, were peculiarly attentive to this part of their police, and this branch of domestick economy. Herce their cloacæs, or drains, were, and are still, the wonder of the world; and it has been often said, that Rome was more worthy of admiration, under the surface of the earth than above. Every rich man had his private bath; it was an article of the first importance. But in addition to these, many of the emperours built and furnished publick baths, which for magnificence and splendour, exceeded all the wonders of this astonishing city. I shall say nothing of any, but those of which there are yet some remains. These are Titus's, Diocletian's, andCaracalla's. Before I go into a description of the nature of them, I would observe, that they occupied each of them several acres of ground, that they often enclosed rotundas for statues, dancing rooms, theatres, and every convenience for publick amusement, for the gratification of the populace and nobility, when they retired from the baths. One of them was so extensive that two thousand persons could bathe in it at the same moment. I will defer any further remarks till another opportunity.

No person is better entitled, than you are to my unremitted attentions, for in addition to the claims you have, in common with others, you can exhibit them of a kind, almost peculiar to yourself. There has been scarcely an arrival from America, which has not brought us some new proof of your affectionate recollection. Believe me, my dear sister,

these tender proofs of regard are not lost upon me. It is however of little importance, to which of you I address my letters, since I well know that as soon as they are opened, they become a species of common property. But I hope you had the prudence and tender regard for my reputation, to recollect, that these letters, written for the private eye of my friends, will do me little, if any credit in the opinion of strangers. They are too negligently written, often too dull, and always too full of common-place remarks to give a respectable view of either my talents, or acquisitions. To the partial eyes of friends, these defects are of no moment, as they will not place affection in one scale, and nicely balance it against abilities and erudition.

Those who love me too well to judge with a critick's eye, and who feel an interest in whatever affects or interests me, I am very willing should see them, but no others.

Having landed you safely in my last letter on this side of the Rubicon, we are not like Julius Cæsar about to wage war upon our country, but we shall certainly commence hostilities upon Roman antiquities. I shall begin by a very formidable example. There is near the Rubicon a column restored by a cardimal of Rome, the antiquity of which bas been doubted, but the Abbé Richard, the most eloquent writer of travels in Italy of all those whose works I have yet seen, says, that he does not see why its authenticity has been doubted. Upon it, is the following inscription in Latin, but which I shall translate for the benefit of the ladies, though I wish to preserve in my letters the original.

"Jussu Mandatove PR. Cos. Im. Trib. Miles. Tyro, Commilito arQuisquis es, manipularisve

mate.

centurio turmæve Legionarium, hic sistito, arma deponito, nec citra hunc amnem Rubiconem signa ductum, exercitum commeatumve, Traducito. Si quis hujusce jussi onis ergo adversus præcepta, ierit feceritve, adjudicatus esto hostis SPQR. ac si contra patriam arma tulerit, penatesque è sacris penetralibus, asportaverit SPQR Sanctio.

Plebiscito SVC.

Ultra hos fines arma proferre nemini liceat.

Which may be liberally and brief ly thus rendered :

66

By the solemn command of the Roman people-to all armed bodies and descriptions of men whatsoever, whether consuls, generals, tribunes, or subordinate officers or privateshere stop-lay down your arms— nor dare to pass this river, or to lead across it your embodied troops. If any one shall, in violation of this command, proceed, he shall be adjudged an enemy; and if he shall bear arms against his country, his household gods shall be removed from their sacred retreats."

Such is the solemn denunciation now recorded on this pillar, and I agree with Abbé Richard in the belief of its authenticity, because it is well known, that in very early times an opinion has prevailed as to the existence of such a prohibition, and because it is certain that this was the boundary between Cisalpine Gaul and Italy, in the time of the Romans. It was therefore natural, that they should prohibit their troops and generals from entering in hostile array into the bosom of their country. Had Cæsar been a man, who could be diverted from his purpose by a solemn decree of the senate, perhaps the liberties of Rome might have been preserved for ages. As you leave Rimini,

you coast along the shores of the Adriatick, till you reach Ancona, a distance of sixty or seventy miles. The view of this sea presenting a horizon to the east and south, limited only by the convexity of the earth, enlivened and diversified by vessels sailing in every direction, while at the same time, the land-prospect is variegated with hills,and covered with olive trees and vineyards, produces a combination of scenery, truly enchanting. Nothing is more beautiful then the Italian fashion of building their cities upon the tops of the mountains. Whether the idea of superiour salubrity in a hot climate, or security from those attacks, to which these unhappy people have been the constant prey, in all ages, induced them to this mode of building, is unimportant; all which the traveller knows, is the delightful effect and could not refrain from remarking, that if they had done it to beautify the country, for the gratification of strangers, they conld not have paid them a happier or more agreeable compliment. These mountains, the Appenines, are almost u niversally cultivated, shaded with forests of olives, or decorated with

vines.

we

Among these hills, near Rimini, and within view of the road, stands the celebrated republick of St. Marino, which owes more than half its reputation to the eloquence of Mr. Addison, who visited and described it, in 1704; just one century ago. But a century produces great changes in the affairs of men, and of course in opinions. It was a mighty fashionable and pretty thing, for literary men, in Addison's day, and since, to write sweet sounding sentences about a species of liberty which nobody had tried, and of course nobody understood.

The practical lessons which have been taught us, in the latter part of that same century, have given birth to new and more correct opinions on that subject. We agree, that although it may be possible for seven thousand poor labourers, without property, without commerce, with that sort of real equality which arises from general indigence, as is the case at St. Marino, to maintain a mere democracy, yet that the thing is perfectly Utopian in a populous, rich, and growing nation, where property must be unequal, and where the walls and the fences must be secure, in proportion to the value of the treasure they contain. That a free republick can be main. tained even in countries of the last description is true, but not that sort of free republick which Mr. Addison, Dr. Moore, and other writers, who have thought and reasoned, rather than felt, upon the subject, would give us. It must be a free republick, with sufficient stability, energy, and force, to resist the spirit of democracy and faction, to preserve the rights of person and property, and which does not owe its strength, to the mere force of popular opinion; a thing never fixed, often erroneous, and even when right, frequently upon improper grounds.

But what a dish of politicks I am serving up, out of so small materials as the little republick of St. Marino. It is like the French or Italian cookery, so changed you can hardly recognize the origin. St. Marino is a little city, with some small environs, which owed its origin to a Religiuex, or hermit, who retired hither, and whose reputation for sanctity became so great, that the inhabitants flocked into his vicinity, aud founded a city. As the country is mountainous, the

inhabitants have been confined to their own settlement, have remained poor and contented. The climate of Italy favours this indifference to wealth; you find it every where. The inhabitants of St. Marino having no commerce, no extra wealth; they have no inequality, and of course have maintained their liberties for thirteen hundred years; but it ought to be added, that they have few or no enjoyments, and are little above savages. It is almost the only government in Italy, which has not been altered by the French revolution. But happily for them, they had no money, no statues, no pictures; there were therefore, no inducements for the friends of liberty, to take compassion on them, as they have done upon the oppressed of all their rich neighbours, kindly relieving them of their oppressive wealth, and their burdensome relicks of antiquity.

A few miles beyond Fano, on the borders of the Adriatick sea, and not farther than thirty miles from Rimini, you pass the river Metau

rus, very celebrated by the victory which the Romans gained over As drubal, the Carthaginian general, who came to the assistance of his brother Hannibal. You may remember that Hannibal having passed the Alps, and repeatedly defeated the Roman armies, took up his winter quarters in the kingdom of Naples, waiting for this recruit, which he expected from Spain.— Claudius Nero, the Consul, who was watching Hannibal with an army, hearing of Asdrubal, ordered the fires to be kept up in his camp, to deceive Hannibal, decamped in the night, met Asdrubal at this spot, the banks of the Metaurus, wholly defeated his army, killed him, returned to the siege of Hannibal's camp, and by throwing in Asdru bal's head, gave the Carthaginians the first notice of his arrival and defeat It was the greatest and most decisive event in the whole Roman history. Had Asdrubal joined his brother, it has been often remarked that probably Rome would have fallen like Carthage.

pairing a bridge; but who ever heard before of repairing a flood?

In order to defend the obscurity of their favourite bard, these ingenious gentlemen have lately discovered that obscurity increases the sublime; than which, there cannot be a more absurd notion, the authority of Burke notwithstanding. Men write to be read, and are read to be understood; and there can be neither good poetry, nor good prose, without good sense. Le Sage, admirably ridicules this absurd notion, in the conversation between Gil Blas and the poet Fabricius. "I found the work so obscure, says the former, that I could not comprehend it.— He perceived it. This sonnet, says he to me, appears to you to want clearness, does it not? I acknowledged to him, that I could have wished for a little less obscurity. He laughed at my expense, and replied; if this sonnet is wholly unintelligible, so much the better Sonnets, odes, and other works, that aim at sublimity, must not be reduced to simplicity and nature; it is in their obscurity that their whole merit consists. Surely, interrupted I, you are jesting with me, my friend. Goodness and clearness are indispensable in all poems of whatever nature they may be."

Gil Blas Liv. 17. ch. 13. Gray's Latin poetry is extremely elegant; but I am rather surprized

that so excellent a scholar should

have been guilty of a false quantity. In the following line he makes the i in the conjunction uti short, which is uniformly long.

Ac uti longinquis descendunt montibus

amnes.

De principiis cogitandi. V. 54.

The following poem, addresed to Mr. West, from Genoa, consisting