opera at Paris. It is furprifing, that a people of fuch taste and fenfibility as the Italians, fhould prefer a parcel of athletic jumpers to elegant dancers.

On the evenings on which there is no opera, it is ufual for the genteel company to drive to a public walk immediately without the city, where they remain till it begins to grow dufkifh. Soon after our arrival at Florence, in one of the avenues of this walk we obferved two men and two ladies, followed by four fervants in livery. One of the men wore the infignia of the garter. We were told this was the Count Albany, and that the Lady next to him was the Countess. We yielded the walk, and pulled off our hats. The gentleman along with them was the Envoy from the King of Pruffia to the Court of Turin. He whifpered the Count, who, returning the falutation, looked very earnestly at the D- of H—. We have seen them almost every evening fince, either at the opera or on the

public walk. His G- does not affect to shun the avenue in which they happen to be; and as often as we pass near them, the Count fixes his eyes in a moft expreffive manner upon the D-, as if he meant to fay-our ancestors were better acquainted.

You know, I fuppofe, that the Count Albany is the unfortunate Charles Stuart, who left Rome fome time fince on the death of his father, because the Pope did not think proper to acknowledge him by the title which he claimed on that event. He now lives at Florence, on a fmall revenue allowed him by his brother. The Countess is a beautiful woman, much beloved by those who know her, who univerfally defcribe her as lively, intelligent, and agreeable. Educated as I was in Revolution principles, and in a part of Scotland where the religion of the Stuart family, and the maxims by which they governed, are more reprobated than perhaps in any part of Great Britain, I could not behold this un

fortunate

fortunate perfon without the warmest emotion and sympathy. What must a man's feelings be, who finds himself excluded from the most brilliant fituation, and nobleft inheritance that this world affords, and reduced to an humiliating dependance on thofe, who, in the natural course of events, fhould have looked up to him for protection and support? What must his feelings be, when on a retrospective view he beholds a series of calamities attending his family, that is without example in the annals of the unfortunate; calamities, of which those they experienced after their acceffion to the throne of England, were only a continuation? Their misfortunes began with their royalty, adhered to them through ages, increased with the increase of their dominions, did not forfake them when dominion was no more; and, as he has reafon to dread, from his own experience, are not yet terminated. It will afford no alleviation or comfort, to recollect that part of this black lift of calamities arofe

from

from the imprudence of his ancestors; and that many gallant men, in England, Scotland, and Ireland, have at different periods been involved in their ruin.

Our fympathy for this unfortunate perfon is not checked by any blame which can be thrown on himself. He furely had no fhare in the errors of the firft Charles, the profligacy of the fecond, or the impolitic and bigotted attempts of James against the laws and established religion of Great Britain and Ireland; therefore, whilft I contemplate with approbation and gratitude the conduct of thofe patriots who refifted and expelled that infatuated monarch, afcertained the rights of the fubject, and fettled the conftitution of Great Britain on the firm bafis of freedom on which it has flood ever fince the Revolution, and on which I hope it will ever ftand, yet I freely acknowledge, that I never could fee the unfortunate Count Albany without fentiments.

of

of compaffion, and the moft lively fympathy.

I write with the more warmth, as I have heard of fome of our countrymen, who, during their tours through Italy, made the humble ftate to which he is reduced a frequent theme of ridicule, and who, as often as they met him in public, affected to pass by with an air of fneering infult. The motive to this is as bafe and abject as the behaviour is unmanly; those who endeavour to make misfortune an object of ridicule, are themselves the objects of deteftation. A British nobleman or gentleman has certainly no occafion to form an intimacy with the Count Albany; but while he appears under that name, and claims no other title, it is ungenerous, on every accidental meeting, not to behave to him with the respect due to a man of high rank, and the delicacy due to a man highly unfortunate.

One