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JOURNAL OF A TOUR.

native lands, never more to meet; and that the agreeable evenings now passing, will return no more between the same persons.

The Count Pozzo di Borgo residing here, is nephew to the celebrated Russian ambassador of that name, at Paris. He is lively, agreeable, and good-natured, answering perfectly to the French denomination of un bon enfant. The countess is a most amiable woman, but in such very delicate health, as to be wholly confined to her own salon, and two pretty daughters, not yet come out, form the family at present here. The Count and Countess de Maestre are also residing at Pisa for the winter. The count is the author of the amusing book, entitled, " Tour autour de ma Chambre," and of the highly interesting one of "Le Lépreux de la Vallée d'Aost." He is a martyr to ill health, which nearly precludes his mixing in society; much to the regret of those who have once enjoyed his conversation. This pleasure I had a few evenings ago, when I was present at the representation of an Italian comedy, well got up at the residence of the Count Pozzo di Borgo, the principal characters in which were well enacted by his two pretty and accomplished daughters. All the rank and fashion, as the "Morning Post" would say, of Pisa, were at this representation; and among the ladies were some very handsome faces; though all agreed that none were comparable to the Duchesse de Guiche, who shone the beauty of the evening; a fact of which she alone seemed totally unconscious.

Mr. Francis Hare is arrived from Florence, to spend a few days with us: he is as gay, clever and amusing as usual, and, consequently, is an acquisition to our circle.

The news has arrived of the death of the dear good Duke of York, and has plunged us all in sadness. Never did a kinder heart beat in a human breast than in his; and never was there a person more beloved by his friends, and they were numerous. How many instances of his good-nature have recurred to my memory, since I heard the sad news of his death; and how many are now sympathising with my feelings of regret for him! He never allowed a difference of political opinion to produce any coldness between him and those he honored with

his regard; and honest and conscientious in his own, he was disposed to give others credit for the same good motives for theirs. The stability of his friendship was as admirable as was the placability of his resentments. His was a heart in which rancor could not find a place, nor deception a harbor. I have heard him, when the tide of public opinion ran high against an individual of his acquaintance, silence the malignity of some (an encounter with whose tongue few would have dared), by a frank avowal that, however appearances might be against the individual, he would not, could not credit the reports until they were proved; and begged they might change the subject. Peaceful be his rest, kind-hearted and excellent man! who, to many virtues, added as few errors as ever fell to the share of humanity.

Pisa, ever dull, sober Pisa, has its carnival; and a more triste abortion of an attempt at gaiety, as far at least as the public part of the exhibition goes, never was seen. Some fifty old carriages, of the most outré shapes and fashion, drawn by horses caparisoned in trappings as obsolete, and attended by servants, in liveries à-lu-mode of a century ago, parade along the Lung' Arno; the occu pants of these antediluvian equipages, dressed in their gala garments. One or two modern carriages, well appointed, belonging to parvenu families here, make those of l'ancien régime look more absurd; but the owners of these last are proud of their antiquity, and would not on any account suffer them to be modernized. The people, too, seem to look on the old vehicles with more respect than the new; a proof that they have not yet adopted the liberalism of the French, shown in the mockery levelled by the people of that nation against all that is old.

The pedestrians that crowd the Lung' Arno are nearly all in masquerade dresses, most of them of the fashion of centuries gone by. The balconies and windows are decorated by tapestry, and damask curtains of gay colors; so that the whole scene resembles some of those seen in the old pictures, and has a curious effect. The theatre, too, is open, and the performances are tolerable. The ladies go masked, and pay visits even in the boxes of strangers, to whom they address many civil speeches;

never, however, violating the laws of decorum and goodbreeding. The Italian ladies are peculiarly polite to those of other countries, sending gifts of flowers, fruit, and bonbons, offered with a delicacy of manner very agreeable.

The weather has been uninterruptedly mild, and free from rain, since we have been here; resembling the fine days in the early part of October in England.

March. Mr. Wilkie,* our celebrated painter, has come to spend a few days with us. He enjoys Italy very much; and his health is, I am happy to say, much improved. He was present last evening, at a concert at the Duchesse de Guiche's, where a delicate compliment was offered to her; the musicians having surprised her with an elegantly turned song, addressed to her, and very well sung; copies of which were presented to each of the party, printed on paper couleur de rose, and richly embossed. This galanterie originated with half-a-dozen of the most distinguished of the Pisans; and the effect was excellent, owing to the poetical merit of the verses, the good music to which they were wedded, and the unaffected surprise of the fair object to whom they were addressed. Mr. Wilkie seemed very much pleased at the scene, and much struck with the courtly style of beauty of our hostess.

Mr. Lister, the author of "Granby," has come here for a few days. He is a very gentlemanly, well-informed young man, of peculiarly mild manners, and with a good taste for the fine arts.

We went to Leghorn yesterday: a large party, consisting of the Duchesse de Guiche, Mr. Lister, Mr. Wilkie, and our own family. A portion of our party went on board Admiral Codrington's ship, which was in the harbor; and returned much gratified by the inspection of it. I, who have seen so many ships, devoted the time during which they were absent, to an examination of the English cemetery; where repose the mortal remains of so many of my countrymen, who came to this mild climate,

*Now Sir David Wilkie,

in the vain hope of recovering health, and remained to die. A cemetery, at all times and in all places a sight that appeals to the feelings, does so most forcibly when sacred to our compatriots, in a foreign land: and I could not look at the graves, without thinking how many fond hearts have yearned to behold these last resting-places of the loved dead, from whom seas divide them.

The tomb of Horner is distinguished from all others, by a cameo, the work of Chantrey, admirably executed. Smollett's grave who could pass without a sigh? remembering the delight his works have so often afforded. The guide pointed to a tomb, and said, "There, signora, is one that few of your compatriots look on without smiling: strange, that people can smile at an epitaph, which I am told is so very melancholy."

The following is the inscription, written by the defunct, and engraved on the tomb by her express desire:"Under this stone lies the victim of sorrow; fly, wandering stranger, from her mouldering dust, lest the rude wind, conveying a particle thereof unto thee, should communicate that venom, Melancholy, that has destroyed the strongest frame and liveliest spirits. With joy did she resign her breath, a living martyr to sensibility."

There was no resisting the last two lines, which, I fear, prove incontestibly that the deceased was an Hibernian.

"Ah! signora, you too smile, like all the rest, at that monument," said the guide; "well, for my part, I cannot understand why."

The shop of a Jew named Hadbib at Leghorn, filled with shawls, and various other objects of Eastern manufacture, is much frequented, and offers an assemblage of very rich merchandise to tempt strangers. We dined at Leghorn, and returned home in the evening, well pleased with our excursion.

April.-Paid a visit yesterday to the Prince and Princess Carragia, who reside in the Palazzo Lanfranchi, in which Byron lived. I was glad of an opportunity of seeing the rooms he inhabited; and the scene I beheld in them reminded me of him: he would have been struck with it. The room in which the Princess received us is a

large one, and contained several articles of furniture in the Turkish style. Her dress too, was more in the Oriental than French or Italian mode; and gave her a very picturesque appearance. The princess is far advanced in years, and speaks no language but her native one, so that we were compelled to have recourse to an interpreter. She was attired in a robe of very rich Turkish materials, and of a peculiar form; and on her head was a small embroidered kerchief, with a bunch of natural flowers. She wore, although in the morning, a necklace of splendid. pearls with a magnificent diamond clasp, and bracelets, and rings, that might have excited the longing of a queen. She sat on a low ottoman, covered with a rich India shawl, and another was placed at her feet.

Count

Vis-à-vis to her, sat the aged prince her husband, in his Turkish costume; his gray beard flowing over his breast, and his magnificent pipe by his side. He speaks Italian, and French, and is a shrewd old man. Pozzo di Borgo, who accompanied us in the visit, and who frequently spends an hour with the Prince and princess, asked the latter to let us see some of her jewels, a request with which she good-naturedly complied; and the Prince ordered pipes to be brought for the gentlemen.

It was curious to behold the barbaric paraphernalia glittering before our eyes. On one side were the pipes, sparkling with rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds, with which the amber mouth-pieces and handles were encrusted; poniards, and Damascus sabres, equally enriched with precious stones; and on the other were shining, in the open casket of the princess, diamonds, uncut rubies, and emeralds, of immense value. One necklace particularly caught my attention. It consisted of a single row of pear-shaped diamonds, pierced at one end, through the punctures of which was passed a silver thread. There was no setting, of any kind, to this necklace; and never did I see so beautiful an ornament. Coffee was served à-la-turque, in delicate China cups incased in silver fillagree ones; and the prince and princess did the honors of their residence with a grave dignity.

Dined yesterday at the Archbishop of Mitylene's, and partook of a repast in which many Turkish and Greek