goods. Porcelain from Sevres, fancy articles from Paris, the wares of Birmingham, and the cutlery of Sheffield, attract your eye at every step. Even our own country con

trives to do its share.

Soon after our arrival at the Royal Oak, the rendezvous of most of our countrymen who visit Leghorn, we made our way through the multitude to the Port, which is more interesting to the stranger than any other part of the town. A strong barrier surrounds the harbour, and the main street opens through a high, narrow arch, where the rush of the crowd, like a torrent contracted by lateral rocks, is incessant, and often dangerous. Carriages, hackney-coaches, carts, wheel-barrows, and all the apparatus of commerce, pour through this passage, and leave no protection to the pedestrian.

The first object which arrested our attention on reaching the quay, was a conspicuous pile of monumental marble, consisting of a colossal statue of Ferdinand I. Grand Duke of Tuscany, and four bronze slaves in chains at his feet, surrounding the pedestal! The work is executed in a masterly style, but the design is absolutely repulsive-worse, if possible, than the monument to Nelson, in the Exchange at Liverpool, to which it bears a striking resemblance. Petty sovereignty is here clothed in its most revolting attributes. The expressive faces, the piteous, uplifted eyes, the manacled limbs of the captives, meet only with a frown from the unrelenting brow of the victor; and from almost the only specimen of the fine arts worth looking at in the town, the spectator turns away with disgust.

At the dock we took one of the hundred row-boats, furnished with carpets and awnings, always in readiness, with an importunate gang of watermen resting upon their oars, and made an equatic excursion, occupying two or three hours. The inner harbour, or rather basin, is separated from the outer by a mole, covered with a block of ware-houses, and surrounded on all sides by substantial quays. It is narrow

and crowded with vessels. A bridge at one point, and a ferry-boat at another, connect the insulated buildings with the town. There are now lying at this basin two ships of war; one for the Greeks, and the other for the Turks, destined probably to meet hereafter in action upon the ocean. The latter is now upon the stocks, a monstrous half finished hulk.

The port of Leghorn is connected with the basin by a narrow pass, just wide enough for one large vessel, and generally choked with boats. It is closed from sunset till sun

rise, and no one is allowed to enter during the night. The object of such a vexatious regulation is scarcely discoverable, unless it has some connexion with the quarantine. Even boats that are but on commercial business with foreign vessels, must hurry home at nightfall, lest the gates be barred against them.

The outer harbour is spacious, but neither deep nor safe. It is almost entirely artificial, encircled on all sides, save one, by moles and quays. Tremendous and rude ledges have

been thrown together next to the sea, to break the violence of the winds and waves. Some of these masses of rock are so enormous, and have so much the appearance of being in situ, that we could hardly believe they had not been planted here by the hand of nature herself. The principal mole has a handsome superstructure, behind which the vessels ride at anchor. But all these defences against the elements are not sufficient to render the port secure, and ships are often dismasted by squalls, while moored under the lee of the mole. The quarantine ground is still worse, being in the open roads, exposed to all the storms, which at certain seasons lash the

coast.

The quantity of shipping in the harbour did not equal my expectations, though allowance must be made for the stagnation of commerce during the last year, and perhaps for the time of our visit. Vessels, like birds of passage, are generally periodical in their migrations; and none of the Indiamen had yet arrived. British ships were numerous. In fact, the greater part of the business of Leghorn is done by English and Scotch merchants. They receive nearly all the consignments of our countrymen. The boatmen took us alongside the family yacht, belonging to Mr. Baring, the London banker. She is one of the prettiest models I have ever seen; neat, tasty, and without any superfluity of ornament. a year, the proprietor and his family make a trip along the classic shores of the Mediterranean, touching at Naples, Palermo, Malta, and other ports.

Once

Having examined the harbour and shipping, we extended our excursion without the mole to the Light-House standing upon a rocky islet, also artificially made. The lantern is poised upon a substantial tower, perhaps 150 feet above the

waves. In our toilsome ascent, two or three families of females were observed, in apartments not uncomfortable, but at a fearful elevation. Some of them had pretty Italian faces, wreathed with smiles, and looked like imprisoned beauty. If a Sappho should chance to be of the number, she might find both the rock and the wave at her own window.

The lantern is furnished with a good telescope, and in clear weather, the island of Elba, as well as the mountains of Corsica, may be distinctly seen. But unfortunately the horizon was hazy, and these islands were not visible. We however had a charming view of the two small islands off the coast; of Monte Nero, and its white villages to the south; the long line of green shores to the north, with the Apennines beyond; and the harbour and town spreading beneath us. A distinct survey of these objects amply remunerated our toils, and consoled us under the disappointment of not catching a distant glance at the sea-girt birth-place and prison of Napoleon.

On our return from this excursion, we visited the Jews' Synagogue, which is said to be the most splendid building of the kind in Europe, or indeed in the world. About one third of the inhabitants of Leghorn are of the scattered tribes of Israel. They here enjoy more freedom, or in other words, experience less oppression, than in any other of the Italian cities. Many of them have accumulated fortunes, and liberally contributed to embellish their sanctuary, where they all worship the God of their Fathers. The edifice is two stories high, without much external show, and situated on one of the dirtiest streets in town. But the interior is both rich and splendid, with blind galleries for the accommodation of the female part of the audience, and a spacious area below for the men. The reading-desk rises in the centre, and the Holy of Holies, the depository of the book of the law and the sacred symbols, is a superb shrine, erected at one end against the wall. All the ornaments are of massive gold, silver, and precious stones. There are no less than three thousand lamps, and the flood of light, pouring upon so many brilliant docorations, is said to be on some of the great festivals almost insufferable. Select passages from the scriptures, in the Hebraic character, cover the walls. The Grand Duke and Dutchess of Tuscany not long since paid the Synagogue a visit, and the congregation in return presented the latter with a gorgeous dress, sparkling with the gems of the East. Se

veral natives of Jerusalem, Judea, the shores of Africa, and the isles of the sea, are here gathered together, and find a quiet asylum.

Our visit to the Protestant burying-ground was to me extremely interesting, fond as I am of brooding over cemeteries and reading epitaphs. In certain moods of the mind, it is more agreeable to linger round the mansions of the dead, than to frequent the habitations of the living. This graveyard, according to my taste, is worth a hundred of the Campo Santo at Pisa. In the latter, the hand of art alone is visible; in the former, nature and art are charmingly blended. The enclosure is sinall, situated in the suburbs of the town, where the sacred repose of the tomb is undisturbed by the din and levity of the streets. A neat iron railing, supported by stone pillars, encircles the area, fringed on all sides by rows of cypress, and the whole beautifully shaded by weeping willows, which hang their long rich tresses over the white marble monuments. There is almost thought--certainly sentiment in this tree, the very image of which is melancholy and sepulchral above all others. The sod is perfectly green and enamelled with flowers, among which the wild poppy is conspicuous, rearing its crimson petals above the rank grass, and by a sort of heedless gaiety striking the mind by contrast; as the most cheerful music sometimes only serves to sadden the feelings.

The monuments taken collectively, are the handsomest and in the best taste I have ever seen. They are of fine statuary marble, uniformly chaste in design, and executed with all the exactness of the Italian chisel. Their dates reach as far back as the year 1746, when the cemetery was commenced by Mr. Bateman, an Englishman, who munificently gave a sufficient sum to purchase the ground, and defray the expenses of the enclosure. Among the most beautiful monuments, is one to the memory of captain Gamble, of the United States Navy, who died at Pisa in 1818. It is of the purest Carrara marble, and consists of a square pedestal surrounded with four eagles, above which rises a fluted column, surmounted by an urn and girt with a cincture of stars. Those in memory of captain M'Knight, of the United States Marines; Miss Bowdoin, and Mr. Reed, of Boston; Mr. Seton, and Mr. Pollok, of New-York; Mr. Hawley, of Connecticut; Mr. De Bull, of Baltimore; and two Midshipmen in the United States Navy, are all beautiful.

The

waves. In our toilsome ascent, two or three families of females were observed, in apartments not uncomfortable, but at a fearful elevation. Some of them had pretty Italian faces, wreathed with smiles, and looked like imprisoned beauty. If a Sappho should chance to be of the number, she might find both the rock and the wave at her own window.

The lantern is furnished with a good telescope, and in clear weather, the island of Elba, as well as the mountains of Corsica, may be distinctly seen. But unfortunately the horizon was hazy, and these islands were not visible. We however had a charming view of the two small islands off the coast; of Monte Nero, and its white villages to the south; the long line of green shores to the north, with the Apennines beyond; and the harbour and town spreading beneath us. A distinct survey of these objects amply remunerated our toils, and consoled us under the disappointment of not catching a distant glance at the sea-girt birth-place and prison of Napoleon.

On our return from this excursion, we visited the Jews' Synagogue, which is said to be the most splendid building of the kind in Europe, or indeed in the world. About one third of the inhabitants of Leghorn are of the scattered tribes of Israel. They here enjoy more freedom, or in other words, experience less oppression, than in any other of the Italian cities. Many of them have accumulated fortunes, and liberally contributed to embellish their sanctuary, where they all worship the God of their Fathers. The edifice is two stories high, without much external show, and situated on one of the dirtiest streets in town. But the interior is both rich and splendid, with blind galleries for the accommodation of the female part of the audience, and a spacious area below for the men. The reading-desk rises in the centre, and the Holy of Holies, the depository of the book of the law and the sacred symbols, is a superb shrine, erected at one end against the wall. All the ornaments are of massive gold, silver, and precious stones. There are no less than three thousand lamps, and the flood of light, pouring upon so many brilliant docorations, is said to be on some of the great festivals almost insufferable. Select passages from the scriptures, in the Hebraic character, cover the walls. The Grand Duke and Dutchess of Tuscany not long since paid the Synagogue a visit, and the congregation in return presented the latter with a gorgeous dress, sparkling with the gems of the East. Se