the first of the last eight days of the Carnival, which are the paroxysm of the fun and the folly of this season of rejoicing. But, as eight consecutive days of festivities might be too fatiguing, occasional resting days intervene, to give time for the spirits to rally ;—and then, when the season of indulgence is over, Lent and fasting begin. This is wisely contrived, for after an excess of feasting, fasting succeeds as a relief, rather than a privation. Whatever Lent may be to the many, it is no light matter to the strict Catholics. The present Pope, who is most exemplary in all religious observances, keeps it with the most rigid abstemiousness.

The usual exhibition has not been given this morning in the Piazza del Popolo. It is customary that an execution should take place on this day, as an edifying prelude to the gaieties of the Carnival, but there is no criminal ready for the guillotine.

22d. Second day of the Carnival. The Corso is the grand scene of foolery. Here, two lines of carriages, filled with grotesque figures in masks, drive up and down; while the middle of the street is thronged with a multitude of masqueraders. I have seen little fun, and no humour-except in a few English maskers. All that Corinne says of

the skill and vivacity of the Italians in supporting characters of masquerade, I suspect to be greatly exaggerated.

I doubt whether a May-day in England be not quite as amusing as the Carnival. All that the people do, is to pelt each other with sugar-plums, as they are called, though they are really made of lime. When a stoppage takes place amongst the carriages, which is frequently the case, those that are alongside of one another might be compared to two ships in an engagement-such is the fury of the fire. One can bear being pelted by the natives, for they throw these missiles lightly and playfully-but the English pelt with all the vice and violence of school-boys, and there was an eye nearly lost in the battle of this morning.

The conclusion of the day's entertainment is the horse-race. There is a discharge of cannon as a signal for the carriages to quit the Corso. The street is soon cleared, and the horses are brought out. It is really surprising to see their eagerness and emulation; indeed they seem to enjoy the scene as much as the spectators. To-day, one of them, in its impatience to start, broke from its keeper, leaped the barrier, and set off alone. Five started afterwards, and, for the first two hundred

yards, they seemed to run against one another with thorough good-will; but being without riders, they find out long before they get to the end of the Corso, which is a mile long, that their speed is entirely optional. Many of them therefore take it very quietly; -the greatest fool runs fastest, and wins the race.

Every sort of stimulant is applied to supply the want of a rider. Little bells are tied about them, and a sort of self-acting spur is contrived, by suspending a barbed weight to a string, which, in its vibrations, occasioned by the motion of the horse, strikes constantly against his flanks. The people encourage them by shouts from all sides; but the most efficacious and the most cruel of the means employed, is the application of a squib of gunpowder to the poor animal's tail;-or a piece of lighted touch-paper to some raw part of his hide.

In the evening a masked ball;—where I in vain endeavoured to find any thing like the well-supported characters, which we occasionally see at a masquerade in England. There were, in fact, no characters at all;-nothing but a mob of masks and dominos.

23d. A day's rest from the Carnival.-Drove to the Borghese villa.—The gardens and pleasure

grounds are on a larger scale, and in a better taste, than I have yet seen in Italy. The trees in the shrubberies are allowed to grow as nature prompts them, without being clipped and cut into all sorts of grotesque figures.

The villa is deserted not only by its owner, but by the famous statues-the Household Godswhich it once possessed. Casts now occupy the pedestals of the original marbles, which were sold by the Prince Borghese to Napoleon, and still remain in the gallery of the Louvre.

We went in the evening to one of the Theatres to hear an Improvisatrice. She was a young and pretty girl of seventeen. The subjects had been written by the audience on slips of paper, and put into an urn, to be drawn out as occasion required. She recited three poems. The subject of the first was, the Sacrifice of Iphigenia;-the next, the Cestus of Venus;—and the last, Sappho presents a wreath of flowers to Phaon, was rendered more difficult, by supplying her with the final words of each stanza, which she was to fill up with sense and rhymes. The final words, which were given by the audience, were all to end in ore;-some one suggested sartore-as a puzzling word for the conclusion of the last stanza; and if one might

judge from the laughter and applause of the audience, for I confess I could not follow her, she brought it in with a very ingenious turn.

In the intervals between the poems, she called upon the audience indiscriminately for a word, as the subject of a stanza, which she immediately recited, making every line rhyme with the word proposed. She was seldom at a loss for a moment; and when she did hesitate, she got out of her difficulties most triumphantly. Drudo was the word that seemed to puzzle her most; at least, she made an attempt to evade it; but it was pressed upon her by the audience.

Upon the whole it was a wonderful performance; for though I could not catch all she said, one might judge of the merit of such a performance by the effect produced upon the audience. Besides, though words may add a great deal, they are not absolutely necessary to the expression of sentiment; the language of gestures, and features, and tones, is universal, and by the aid of these, it was easy to follow the story of Iphigenia perfectly.

After the subject of a poem was proposed, she walked about the stage for about ten minutes, and then burst out with all the seeming fervour