Canal, and where a greater than Horace met his Christian friends as he went towards Rome. There is something to me very affecting in the record of this incident in the ♦ twenty-eighth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. Appii Forum is about forty-six miles from Rome. The apostle is on his way to that city to give account of himself to the emperor. Here is a little band of brethren, once pagans, but recently won to the love of Jesus. Among them, perhaps, are a few devout Jews. They have heard of his landing at Puteoli, and have come to cheer him on his way. With such affection from brethren whom he had never seen, no wonder he thanked God and took courage.' I stood upon the little balcony of the humble osteria that now marks the place-perhaps the very ground whereon the parties paused-and gazed along the way, till, in imagination, I saw that blessed prisoner approaching from the south, weary with his journey, a chain upon his left wrist, a staff in his right hand, and the soldiers riding on either side; while from the opposite direction came a score of Christian converts to welcome and comfort the noblest man that ever wore a chain. I saw them quickening their pace to meet him, heard the tender greeting, witnessed the warm embrace, and the tears of love and joy that rolled down every cheek; while the stern soldiers looked on in amazement, and the centurion exclaimed, 'See how these Christians love one another!' I beheld them journeying on together till they reached Tres Tabernæ, where they are met by another party of the brethren, and a similar scene is enacted. Then I descended into the road, and sauntered along the canal, and gathered the wild flowers that grew upon its margin, and wept for joy, to think that I was actually treading the ground consecrated by one of the most touching incidents in the history of original Christianity. Afterwards we sat down to our luncheon, where, perhaps, St. Paul had eaten with his friends.

Dear reader, did you ever think how much you owe to that journey of St. Paul? He remained at Rome at least two full years, dwelling in his own hired house, and preaching the gospel freely to all who came to hear him. During this time many were converted to Christianity. Some of his converts were of Cæsar's household.' One of

them is said to have been a Welsh princess, and others were Britons, then sojourning in Rome. These carried Christianity home with them; and lo! the tree whose fruitful branches now shelter and refresh the nations!

6

But hark! it is the call of our vetturino: Avante, Signore! Monte, monte, Signorina! In three twinklings of an eye we are seated, and rattling away towards Terracina. And here is Sezza, occupying a conspicuous position upon a mountain-the side of the ancient Setia, the native town of Caius Valerius Flaccus, the author of the Argonauticon; and Piperno, the ancient Privernum, the birthplace of Camillus, and famous for its long struggles with Rome; and the Cistercian Monastery of Fossa Nuova, where Thomas Aquinas died, on his way to the Council of Lyons, in the thirteenth century; and the place where, in the days of Horace, stood the Temple of Feronia, with its grove and fountain, nothing of which now remains but a spring, shaded by three stunted trees. Here we overtook a man riding upon a donkey, while a woman walked by his side, with a child in her arms, and a heavy burden on her back; and when we asked him why he did not let her ride, or relieve her of part of her load, he replied, 'Oh, she is my wife!' To half a dozen little girls, who ran after the carriage, we threw a number of small coins; but one of them, failing to secure any in the scramble, pursued us with most imploring cries, in the name of Maria Santissima;' and when she had run about three miles, and we feared she would kill herself, we threw her a mezzo paolo, and she returned to her companions molto contento.

What a grand object was Monte Circello, lying there at our right, like a great sea-monster sunning himself upon the shore! This is the ancient Promontorium Circeum, a perpendicular mass of limestone, several thousand feet high, five or six miles long, and almost surrounded by the sea, situated ten miles west of Terracina, at the southern extremity of the Pontine Marshes. There are traces of masonry upon the summit, supposed to be the remains of a Temple of the Sun, perhaps really of an ancient citadel. There are other ruins upon the western and southern sides of the promontory, one or the other of which must have been the location of the city of Circeii: the scene of the

exile of Lepidus, a favourite resort of Cicero and Atticus, and afterwards of Tiberius and Domitian. Among the Roman epicures it was famous for its oysters; and those who were fond of the sport came hither to hunt the wild boar. This animal still abounds in the Pontine Marshes, and I have once dined at a Roman trattoria upon its meat. Once, I say; and the first time will be the last, so long as I am able to obtain any other sort of food, except bloodpuddings and eels.

Terracina was our encampment for the second night. This is the frontier town of the papal dominion, and has about five thousand inhabitants. It is very picturesquely situated, at the southern extremity of the Pontine Marshes, where the Volscian Mountains project into the sea.

As

we entered the city, the palm-trees along the hillside, with the gigantic cactus, and the yellow orange and lemon groves, told us that we were approaching a more genial clime. Our hotel was close under the cliff, at the very point of the promontory. Across the way, a detached mass of rock shot up several hundred feet like a tower. It is said to have been formerly inhabited by a hermit, and his cell is still seen about half-way up its side. But how he reached it without the wings of an eagle, it is difficult to imagine. We ascended the mountain, twelve or fifteen hundred feet; passing some remains of Pelasgic walls, and several ruined reservoirs, which we found tenanted by kids. Higher up, and almost inaccessible, are the broken arches of Theodoric's Palace, the lower story of which is almost entire. We reached it with great difficulty; but the toil was well rewarded. The view from the top is one of enchanting beauty; including the Pontine Marshes, with the promontory of Monte Circello; the Mediterranean, with Ischia, and the Ponzan Islands; Lago di Fondi, sleeping calmly in the embrace of the mountains; Gaeta, and many other towns along the coast; and, last of all, Vesuvius, distinctly visible at the distance of eighty miles. As we descended, the sun went down over the distant sea, kindling the waters into flame, and shedding a gorgeous glory on the rocky summits around us.

CHAPTER XI.

WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE.

A Wild Story of the Alps-A Tender Story of Mount Anxur. I KNOW not whether our inn was the one immortalized by Washington Irving in his Tales of a Traveller,' where he sat all night telling stories with his friends. It was sufficient for us that it was in the same Terracina, and that a portion of the same spirit fell upon our party. Having refreshed ourselves with a sumptuous repast, we gathered around the fire in our common sitting-room, and Mr. H. began as follows:

'You must know, gentlemen and ladies, that I have been some time travelling in Europe, and am a much older man than I seem to be. Once upon a time-I will not say how long ago, for that would spoil the story-in company with a clever English tourist, I was on my way from Lintz to Wasserburg, and approaching the Bavarian frontier. The road was rough and hilly, and the evening twilight overtook us while we were yet many miles short of our destination for the night. Our horses were jaded, and one of them had lost a shoe, which rendered our progress still more tardy and difficult.

Reaching a small and ugly-looking inn upon the margin of an extensive mountain forest, our driver informed us that it was impracticable to proceed any farther that night, and that it would be unsafe to make the attempt. We remonstrated, reminded him of his engagement, urged the importance to us of its fulfilment, and tried by various arguments to stimulate his courage. Finding all unavailing, we proposed, by way of compromise, to stop an hour and a half, that he might feed his horses, and replace the lost shoe, and then go on by moonlight. To this, after much parleying, he reluctantly consented.

'Entering the inn, we saw eight or ten rough-looking fel

lows sitting around a large fire, and seated ourselves among them. It was plain to me that my companion did not like their appearance; and, for my own part, I was not altogether void of suspicion. The matter looked still worse when we ascertained that there was no female in the house. Resolving, however, to make the best of it, we called for supper, which was soon ready for us in an adjoining room. As soon as we had an opportunity, we expressed to each other our apprehensions. My friend proposed that we should call in the landlord, and have a friendly chat with him, with a view to ascertaining, if possible, something of his character. He immediately accepted our invitation, and sat down to drink wine with us; while we scrutinized his features, weighed every word he uttered, and carefully noted every tone and gesture. We were soon satisfied; we could not possibly be mistaken: his physiognomy, his conversation, his manner, proclaimed him one of the worst of his kind.

'We asked him what meant the shooting we had heard as we approached his house. Perhaps, he said, some of the boys were hunting; or it may have been some of his men trying their hands at a mark; one would very often hear shooting in the forest; occasionally he did something at it himself; and he thought he might have occasion to practice a little to-night. His manner, more than his words, during these remarks, convinced us that we had not judged him too severely. He endeavoured to persuade us to remain till morning; but we told him we must, if possible, reach Wasserburg that night. When we arose to depart he said: "Well, gentlemen, if you will go, I wish you a pleasant journey, though I think I shall see you again before you reach Wasserburg." These words grated on our ears rather harshly; but we smiled as naturally as we could, said we should be happy to have his company, and with affected cordiality bade him good evening.

'Less than half an English mile from his door we met a carriage containing six men, who appeared to be officers of the Austrian army. Learning, upon inquiry, that they intended to spend the night at the inn, we resolved on remaining with them. We informed them at once of our suspicions, and it was soon agreed what policy we had

H