LETTER XXVI.

Vast treasures yet remaining at Rome-The fatigue of seeing sights-Design of writing a detailed account of Rome postponed till the author's return-Journey from Naples to Rome

Tomb of the Horatii and Curiatii near Albano-Frequency of assassination at Rome-Tragical event of that kind seen from the writer's windows in the middle of the day Children left to starve by an unnatural father.

My dear sir,

Rome, April 5, 1803.

SOME time has elapsed since I had the pleasure of writing to you; but when you recollect that the interval has been devoted to the curiosities of Rome, you will neither be offended at the delay nor surprised at the cause, Such, indeed, are the wonderful treasures remaining in this city, notwithstanding the loss which it has suffered from the united evils of war and revolution, that, although I have passed nearly two months in viewing the curiosities of the place, and have spent five or six hours every day in this pursuit, I am satisfied that I have by no means seen every thing; and I have been able to allot to no one object as much attention as it deserved. In truth, I have found the employment of seeing sights so laborious a pleasure, that, had I not had something

eonfidently believe, that, among the many per sons who annually flock hither from every part of the world, no one ever went away dissatisfied.

I have only now to request your pardon for the length of this letter; and remain, &c.

P. S.-I once intended to have visited Postum; but a fever, which confined me for some days, prevented the execution of this plan. The English who have undertaken the journey speak in raptures of the celebrated Grecian temple, one of the finest relics of antiquity, which is still standing at that place.

Note.-I have said nothing of the ceremony of liquefying the blood of San Januarius, as that supposed miracle was not performed during my stay at Naples; besides which, the particulars of the ceremony have been repeatedly detailed by former writers.

in view beyond my own personal amusement, I should have given up the pursuit before I had half achieved the ordinary tour. My curiosity is indeed completely glutted (if I may be permitted to use the expression) with a superabundance of gratification: and from the glare of magnificent palaces, churches, pictures, statues, and antiquities, which have lately crowded before my view, I turn away with pleasure to the humble but tranquil scenery which a green field and a country village afford.

I intended to have sent you a detailed account of all which I have seen; but, after looking over my memorandums, and attempting to select from the mass of information which I have collected, I find the task will be so laborious that I have neither the time nor the patience at present to carry the plan into execution: nor could the shortest sketch of this place be contained within the compass of a letter. I must therefore request your permission to postpone entering on the subject till my return to England, when, from the voluminous notes which I have taken, I purpose forming as short an account as possible of the remaining treasures of Rome*. Should I execute this design, I fear even the most abridged statement, such is the multiplicity of objects deserving notice,

*See Appendix, No. IV.

will appear unpardonably long; and that, in reading it, you will become as tired of hearing the names of Roman buildings, Grecian statues, and modern pictures, as I am already of seeing the originals.

Of the road from Naples to Rome I shall say nothing, having already given you the details. of that journey. I ought however to mention, that near Albano I visited an ancient mausoleum, called the Tomb of the Horatii and the Curiatii. It is a picturesque moss-covered ruin: and though there is no existing proof of the building having been raised to the memory of those gallant and hostile brothers, it is undoubtedly of vast antiquity.

We left Naples on the first of March, and arrived here on the third.

Two days after our arrival, as I stood at my window, I had ocular proof of one of those tragical scenes, which, as every body knows, so frequently occur in this city. My attention was attracted by the appearance of a man running wildly in the street, opposite the house I inhabit in the Piazza di Spagnia, carrying a drawn sword in his hand, and followed by an unarmed soldier. The man reeled; and his pursuer, coming up to him, tried to force the sword out of his hand; but before he could ef fect his purpose, the other gave a sudden spring, and again got on his legs. The soldier