equally well, with all its shades, is in false taste, and scarcely accordant with Christian simplicity.

Our friendly fault-finding is now over; and with hearty good-will and respect to the excellent authoress, we now proceed to set her right with our readers, by a few extracts from her own pages.

The following is her first entrance into Italy, on her road to Milan.

Looking from our Belvidere, to the left was the Ticino, running down to the plains of Lombardy, where it throws its waters into the Po, about three miles below Pavia, with a gradual fall of four hundred and eighty feet. Over the lake, to the north, were the Alps of Switzerland and Piémont ;-the atmosphere was delicious. The soft Ticino reflected the beam of Venus from its bosom; the stars gradually adorned the deep Italian blue

of the heavens; and the calm stillness was only interrupted by the occasional paddling of the boatmen's oars. The distant Alps formed a beautiful line on the horizon; the evening star brought dear friends, and scenes long past, to mind; and, as I looked upon the clear flowing Ticino, I thought of Scott's lines addressed to the Teviot :

Unlike the tide of human things, Which, though it runs with ceaseless flow,

Reflects each grief, reflects each crime, Our earliest years were doomed to

know.' " vol. i. p. 14.

From Milan we track her to Lodi. "Quitting Milan, we again entered extended plains, rich in vegetation, luxuriant in vineyards and fig-trees.

The

Italian here spoken we scarcely understood, as the people do not take the troube to pronounce the final vowels. Marignano on the Lambro was the scene of a victory obtained by Francis I. in 1515. A magnificent aqueduct extends hence over a space of thirty-five miles to the Po..

66

Crossing the Lambro, we arrived at Lodi. Lodi!-all is still, as though the pipe of the shepherd had been the only sound ever heard in its green meadows. We looked back upon Lodi; there is nothing interesting in its modern village; but the sounds of the cannon of Buonaparte were heard afar over Europe, as his formidable artillery forced the bridge, blew up its batteries, and defeated the Austrians in 1795. We approached the Trebbia, and the wandering Po; on the banks of the former, Hannibal was met by Scipio, who was defeated. Sempronius next encountered him on the Po; the victorious arms of Hannibal were again triumphant, and he crossed the

As

Apennines, and entered Etruria. we follow at the distance of ages the footsteps of these conquerors of the earth, the delusive interest they have left is felt, even though one has overstepped mezzo del cammin' di nostra vita,' and is fast hastening to mix one's ignoble dust with that of heroes so resplendent.” vol. i. p. 20.

Miss Morton and her companion arrived at Terni, on the evening of Saturday, which we mention for the sake of adding their Christian example, to that of the comparatively few travellers who, like them, know the privilege of the day of sacred rest, both for the body and the soul. We censure France and Italy; but, alas! look at the scenes in our own land. Look at the poor man; look at the rich man; from the huckster at the corners of our streets, to our legislators and cabinet ministers, including some whose guilt is the greater, because they know better, and once professed better; and whose consciences we are sure must lacerate them to agony, as often as they call to mind the holy counsels of departed sires, and perhaps the buddings of their own early days, before the snares of ambition, or the thirst of lucre had drawn them into the unhallowed vortex of Sunday business, or Sunday dissipation. An admirable paper has been just issued by the Society for the due Observance of the Lord's-day addressed to the higher and more influential classes of society. Would that all whom it concerns, would read it, and seriously weigh its appeals and arguments.

"As we drove to Terni we kept looking back upon the Apennines, which had received a tint so deep, that it must be seen to be conceived-almost a crimson hue. On rising in the morning, we recollected that we were in the ancient Interamna, the birth-place of Tacitus the historian, and surrounded by ruins of temples and amphitheatres, and monuments of ancient grandeur; but of these we saw none: for ONE, with whom the earth is a very little thing, now claimed our thoughts-He, the King of kings and Lord of lords! but oh! how imperfectly worshipped, amidst the din of the drum of the mountebank, (a woman turning head over heels,) and the cries of a public market." vol. i. pp. 61, 62.

Our extracts from Rome must be more considerable. The following was our author's first essay of its wonders.

"We took advantage of a brilliant moon to visit the Coliseum: it is difficult to do justice to that evening's ride. As we drove up the Via Sacra, every pillar and ruin was tinted with a pallid light. I felt that it was a part of that which had long been numbered with doubtful things; and yet they stood, marking past and future judgment. As we entered the mouldering walls of the Coliseum, a bell from a distant convent threw a deep and melodious sound over the Esquiline; and a sotary bird sent forth a long and piercing note. The moon revealed hundreds of arches and buttresses; and the broad blue canopy of heaven spread its magnificent vault above, bearing on its, bosom an universe of worlds; exulting in pristine brightness over the gigantic mouldering mass; and proclaiming immortality, where the works of man spoke only of decay. A bright beam fell on the cross in its centre, and threw a peaceful shadow on that arena, where, amidst the shouts of the multitude, the dying martyrs sealed the truth with their blood. Yes! they sealed the truth with their blood!-they had been taught of the Father! As I sat on a broken pillar, I could not help reflecting on the light that flows from the sacred page,that of history only leaves us surrounded by chaos here, in Rome, they did err, and do err, not knowing the Scripture, nor the power of God.' Surely all that deprive the people of the sacred oracles of God, are worse than the savage beasts of the arena: for the pope, and for the priests of all nations, the Apocalypse has but one voice:- If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book: and if any man shall take away from the words of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things that are written in this book.'

"Having long gazed on the mingled lights and shades, and forms, within this vast amphitheatre, we went to view it from without. Seen from the Esquiline, the mighty rampart seems to lean its breast against the sky, and to mingle with the stars; the atmosphere of night throwing a majestic vastness over every object. The arch of Constantine stands near, on the once triumphal way; but now only returns a feeble echo to the solitary traveller, who exclaims, The day of triumph is passed! By day (and again at Easter) we visited these interesting ruins of the Coliseum. They have made it what they call ‘a holy place,' by encircling the arena with fourteen small chapels: in the front of cach is a picture, calculated to divert

the attention from the Hearer of prayer to some immaterial incident, true or false, -I observed on the central cross a label, with the words, Bacciando la santa croce si acquistano due cento giorni d' indulgenza.' What indulgence?' said I, to an Italian that stood at my elbow. La misericordia di Dio,' he replied, shrugging up his shoulders, with ill-disguised infidelity. And it is upon the cross, that symbol of free and complete pardon,--they dare to affix this lie, and offer their niggardly morsel!

"It is thus that an idolatrous priesthood, whether under the pagan or nominally Christian dispensation, have always doled out their miserable help to those who have hung upon their lips for consolation. Thus did priest and people abuse, under the Jewish dispensation, the symbol that God had given for their cure. And Hezekiah is said to have done right in the sight of the Lord, when he removed the high places and broke the images, and cut down the groves, and brake in pieces the brazen serpent which Moses had made; for unto those days the children of Israel did burn incense unto it.' If its erection by Moses, and the miraculous use that God had made of it, did not save it from destruction when it became an instrument of sin, how shall any other symbol be allowed, when it has the same destructive tendency?

"I had scarcely reached the second row of seats, and was observing the distant tops of the Apennines as they rose through the tracery of foliage and of broken arches, when my attention was riveted by the solemn and devout air of a priest, as he advanced slowly to the foot of the cross; he knelt, kissed it, and passed on. A widow, with her infant, knelt, kissed it, and bathed it with her tears. One man, with a pallid countenance and look of deep abstraction, dragged himself round the arena on his knees, casting up a look of entreaty at every station. Whilst I contemplated this apparently sincere searcher after rest, and longed to whisper in his car, God willeth not the death of a sinner,' we heard solemn chanting, and a long procession of monks, cappuccini and sacconi, with torches burning, and preceded by a crucifix, slowly filing through the high entrance-arches to perform at the chapel. L'esercizio della via crucis;' women mixed in with the group, occasionally elevating a large black crucifix. They advanced to the central cross, bent in apparent adoration; then passing on to a small pulpit on the side, a Capuchin friar, in his brown cloak and rope and cowl, ascended, and planted his crucifix at his right hand. The sacconi stood in two long lines, with their tapers burning, and muffled in their cowls, looking to the right and left through their eye-holes. All the horrors of ancient cruelty, and the deep deception of modern superstition,

were present to my mind. I looked round upon an arena so long stained with blood, and an indescribable sensation thrilled through me. We descended quickly; and, mingling ourselves in the audience, heard a deep and sonorous voice proclaim, in a long exordium, the blessing of being born in the Catholic church, out of which,' said he, (glancing on the heretics around,) you cannot be saved-out of which the devil will, at the hour of death, receive you; but we,' said he, adore the sacred cross.' (Then seizing his crucifix with the utmost violence, he affected to weep over it.) Yes! we will be faithful to thee-we will be faithful to our holy mother, the church. Yes, my dear brethren, we must practise all she ordains!' And then, giving the cross a tremendous shake, he replaced it in the corner, recovered in an instant from his bitter anguish, and the whole train moved off, two and two, chanting and lighting the meridian sun, to the various chapels. They approached, presented their cross; and their voices, uniting in fine harmony, died away beneath the ruined arches, through which I caught a last glimpse of the slow procession." vol. i. pp. 68–71.

The reader will perceive by this extract, how inseparably Scripture language and religious reflection, mingle with the author's feelings and reasonings. Every place, every circumstance reminds us that we are keeping "Protestant vigils," in a land of papal superstition. The Apostle Paul felt similarly; for in a city renowned for its arts and luxuries, for all that was gratifying to the most refined and elevated taste, he had but one thought; he beheld-not magnificent temples and the highest triumphs of human skill; these to him were objects of little account-but "he saw the whole city given to idolatry; " and while he mourned over its superstitions, he addressed himself to tell its proud inhabitants of the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom he had sent. Christian travellers need not be ashamed to experience somewhat of the same feelings, under similar circumstances; for similar, alas! is aspiritually-minded Protestant traveller in the metropolis of the mother of abominations. St. Paul, too, was at Rome, and our author does not for get him, as for example:

Beyond this arch of Titus, rises the immense mass of the Coliseum, the arena

of which was first bathed with the tears of captive Jews, and afterwards with the blood of martyrs and gladiators. It stood the companion of the Roman glory; and it still exists the ruined survivor of its decay. Turning from the Via Sacra into the Triumphal Way that leads round the foot of the Palatine, we pass by the arch of Constantine, first dedicated to Trajan. Its three divisions are ornamented with eight fluted Corinthian columns; its basreliefs relate, on the side of the Coliseum, to acts of Trajan and the sacrifices he offered to the god Mars, Apollo, and Diana. There is no record of the persecution of Christians on this arch of triumph; but faithful history turns our eye on the amphitheatre. Who is that feeble captive just brought on the arena? it is Ignatius. He, too, must die at Rome,'--sentenced there to join the number of those of whom the world was not worthy.' He sailed from Asia; and, entering the Tyrrhene sea, and passing by several islands and cities, at length he came in view of Puteoli, which being shewn, he hastened to go forth, desirous to tread in the footsteps of the Apostle Paul; but a violent wind arising, did not allow him to accomplish this object. See him as he approaches the scene of his execution, praying to the Son of God to

put a stop to the persecution, and to enable the disciples to love one another : and speedily thrown to the wild beasts." then view him led into the amphitheatre,

vol. i. p. 94.

Reminiscences like the above are among the most interesting parts of Miss Morton's volumes. The ordinary tourist passes them by. What cares he for Ignatius or the early martyrs, we had almost said, for the Apostle Paul or his Master?

Miss Morton recurs to St. Paul at Rome in the following passage, in which she depicts the present state of papal superstition at its fountain head.

"I entered Rome with the persuasion that, at least externally, I should perceive some light from the glare of the French Revolution: but no: I found midnight darkness-the grossest superstition, or atheism superstition every absolute where externally exhibited atheism, in conversation and in practice.

"Transubstantiation, penance, purgatory, prayers for the dead, to the Virgin, invocation of saints, pilgrimages, auricular confession, indulgences, the worship of images, of pictures-sprinkling with holy water,-relics-all still the dogmas and

ceremonies of the church.

"The Roman-Catholic religion is what it ever was. As at the Reformation,

'men are still bound fast in fetters of iron;' the whole is one universal and oppressive system of bondage—the fiction of purgatory every where in full power. I heard, at their high festivals, sermons in which the method of God's salvation by faith in Christ-justification by faith alone,' was never once hinted at; man was still left far from God, uncertain of his forgiving love-uncertain whether he could work enough to be accepted: or he was instructed that, if he practised certain ceremonies, did certain works of charity, he would be so.

"When really in Rome, and surrounded by idolatrous images, and heathen unavailing ceremonies, it is evident that it was truly the light of the Holy Spirit which beamed upon, and directed Paul, amidst the thick Pagan darkness which covered the throne of the mighty Cæsars and their golden palaces; enabling him, in his solitary cell, to see the glory of the Just One' to know that God had, in these latter days, spoken not by the mouth of lying oracles-not by the Cumean Sybil, or the winged Mercury, but 'by his Son, who, being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had, by himself, purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high.' Thus to St. Paul was revealed, in the midst of general error, the right object of man's

adoration.

"Amidst the chaos of false notions, perhaps now and then a ray from tradition gleamed in from the glory of the Lord of Hosts. It is very remarkable how St. Paul, in writing to the Hebrews, passes over all the secrets of his prison-houseall the abominable idolatries that he must have witnessed with his eyes every time he was brought forth, and which he must have found deeply rooted in the natural hearts of his Roman converts. He proceeds immediately to his work, to shew them, and through them to us, that God had made a new covenant-that he had given them an High Priest, who was set on the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens- a minister of the sanc

6

tuary and of the true tabernacle, which God had pitched, and not man. Yes, a glorious high throne is, from the beginning, the place of our sanctuary. Jesus has, by his own blood, entered at once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us, and to them that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto salvation.' Yes, this was light and glory; this is the light which, when it shines into the human heart, chases away all the sullen demons of superstition and infidelity, with all the enemies of the living God.

"To form, in any measure, an adequate idea of the extent to which useless ceremony is carried, the Diario Romano' must be consulted. It is published as an

almanac every year, by authority, and cannot be supposed tinctured with Protestant prejudice. Look at the notices from the twenty-first to the thirty-first of December. There we have set forth for Christmas fare, as objects of intense interest and adoration, not at some remote village in the Abruzzian mountains, but at the boasted head of Christendom

"1. The table on which our Lord took his last supper.

2.

3.

The finger of St. John.

The body of St. Clement for adoration.

4. An image of our Saviour on an altar on the top of the holy stairs, which, for pilgrims to ascend on their knees, and adore, procures them a long exemption from purgatory. 5. The pontifical benediction of a hat, sent to the princes of Christendom, and which I saw precede the Pope on Christmas day.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

The swaddling bands of our Lord.

The cradle of our Lord.

tion.

11. The jaw-bone of St. Filippo Neri.

"I am sure any of my Christian friends, casting an eye on this, would say, ''tis millions of my fellow-creatures are thus strange you can mention such folly.'Ah! but deluded! Millions, thus kept from seeking justification by Christ alone, seek to be justified by these follies, and by their own worthless works.

"And it must likewise be remembered, that all these are probably fictitious relics. Little did I think to see actually brought before my eye, that of which Claudius of Turin (one of their own bishops) speaks, when he says, controverting the worship

6

of the cross, If we are allowed to adore the works of men,-if the cross ought to be adored because Christ was nailed to it, for the same reason we ought to adore mangers, because he was laid in one, and swaddling bands, because he was wrapt in them.' The heads of the church approved the reasoning, and a fictitious swaddling band is worshipped; and I saw the cradle (likewise fictitious) adored in high pontifical mass, on Christmas eve, 1826, at Santa Maria Maggiore." vol. i. pp. 96-103.

Our authoress saw the poor aged pope at St. Peter's, on Christmasday, but was not much fascinated with his appearance. She does

not, we are sure, mean to reproach him for his bodily infirmities; though the passage is not expressed exactly as we could have wished, in refer

ence to an aged man on the borders of eternity. No appearance of contempt should mix with Christian piety or holy indignation.

Fancy our surprise, when we saw moving on, in the venerable group of cardinals, a hat (fac simile to an opera hat) of puce velvet, handsomely trimmed with silver. I revolved in my mind that it must be an insignia of the Roman senator, representative of the people-even the beloved flock of this kind shepherd. But no! this curious object was nothing but a hat blessed by the pope, to be sent to the king of Spain. Then came flapping on with a solemn frightful motion, two immense fans, formed of large ostrich feathers, taken from birds, bred (according to tradition) in early ages, and used by the holy high priests, the Roman emperors-reminding one of the superstitious horrors of the Obi amidst the poor ignorant Blacks of Africa? and beyond this, in the dim distance, was seen, in solemn entry, the pope. On his head was the triple crown; on his body, the finest decoration of the worm; and in his countenance, impotence. He bent his poor withered head to the right and left-sat aloft, lifting his shrivelled hand to indicate his worthless blessing; and he who sat on high, entering the temple of God as God, amidst kneeling adorers, could, after all, look like nothing but a silly old woman. He moved on, amidst the profound prostrations of the people, to his high throne; and the cardinals advanced. The poor creature was helped out, and placed on its throne. The cardinals took their places to the right and left; the priests surrounded the high altar; and the high pontifical mass began the choristers bursting forth in Latin strains. Incense and perfumes encompassed the pope, and, burning on every side, threw their insulting smoke towards heaven, whilst a fine sun

beam, crossing the vast area of St. Peter's, seemed at that moment the only created thing that spoke of God that proclaimed his Majesty that recalled the infinite condescension of Him who was the brightness of his Father's glory.

Beneath this glorious ray, the pope, supported by the cardinals, advanced to the altar. The host was elevated. Pope, and priests, and people, fell prostrate before a wafer. Yes, from far and nearthe rich and poor-the soldier and the slave-the needy pilgrim from the Abruzzian mountains, and the ambassadors of kings all, all adored! Surely there is merriment in hell at such a sight, while angels mourn!" vol. i. pp. 104, 105.

Our readers shall now have a specimen of an Italian sermon.

"The Jesuit slowly ascended the pulpit. His countenance was of the finest cast a St. Francis; his dress a simple priest's vestment, with the Jesuit's cap He took it off, and turned gracefully to

the high altar; and he then led the congregation in a prayer to the virgin'. The preacher was a crucifix, and in his hand a pulpit was very long. To the left of the very long towel. He delivered his text, first in Latin, then in Italian."

"The sermon was to this effect:Various have been the indications of the power and love of God to man. To his favourite people, the Jews, he sent his angel to go before them as a cloud and as a pillar of fire. To his servant Jacob he appeared as an host. To the ignorant shepherds he sent a vision. Behold, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them. But to the Magi, men of learning, he sent a star. Yes, to the Magi! far from the camp of Israel. Of these Magi we have, from tradition, a particular. account. More honoured than the shepherds, we have their names preserved to us-Gaspar, Melchior, and Beltshazzar. They were kings and priests, deeply. versed in the mysteries of their religion; they had listened to the voice of tradition.

they searched their sacred auguries; they understood that God had promised some great mercy; they waited for this star, and they saw it. Thus you see, my beloved, how God suits his revelations to our temperament. They were erudite in: astronomy; they had watched the worlds. of light, and they were prepared to discover any change that might occur. an angel been commissioned to them, as. to the shepherds, possibly they might have doubted. They might have disputed the reality of the vision, and their learning would only have served to increase their difficulties. But they had seen the star, and they knew its import.'”, vol. i. pp. 116, 117.

Had

Miss Morton gives us the remainder; but this may suffice. The thought respecting the adaptation of the star to the case of the magi is ingenious, though we should not think solid; but then, that a man who could write thus should gravely talk of Gaspar, Melchior, and Belthazzar! Does any man of education, even in Cologne, seriously believe in this ridiculous tradition?

Our travellers visited with much sympathy the Protestant burying ground.

"It is sweetly situated, and affection has planted trees, and gracefully sculptured the tombs of Carrara marble. Our sympathy was moved to find so many of our countrymen left in a foreign land, far from the grave of their fathers. We ob-' served the tomb of Miss Bathurst, whose. horse plunged into the Tiber, where she perished; that of a son of the Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, Mr. Ryder, over