Roman ones, but bearing the figures of quaint lions and other animals, and sundry Saxon zig-zags and wavings, and on some the old English words, have Mynde, or Remember! that is, most probably, the care of your own soul, or to pray for those of others.

Here we bid adieu to Winchester. Long as its historic ground and beautiful antiquities have been overlooked by the multitude, I imagine they will hereafter become much more known, and afford a great degree of pleasure to our countrymen. Steam, which is laying open the beauties and the historic treasures of the kingdom to its inhabitants, has taken its way through Winchester, and brought it within little more than two hours distance of the metropolis. What is more, it has laid it in the direct line of what will be one of the most attractive routes to our summer tourists-to Southampton, the Isle of Wight, and back to town by Portsmouth. Who, therefore, on this round of enjoyment, will not drop down at Winchester, where so much of high interest may be seen in a single day, or even in a few hours? As I sat on St. Giles's-hill, pondering on all the past history of the place, suddenly came the steam-engine with its train, fuming and flying through the quiet district. The effect was startling. The two extremes of English history were brought suddenly and unexpectedly together; and I could almost imagine the old Saxon kings,

upspringing from their sleep in the cathedral, to inquire what new and strange power had burst into their dreamy and so long undisturbed dominion. The restless spirit of the new has, indeed, broken in ;-it cannot wake the dead, but it will bring to the living a better knowledge of the old!

It would be curious to bring into one view the visits to England of those foreigners who have exercised a signal influence on the destinies of their own nation, and thence on those of mankind in general, and to take a glance at their places of abode while here. It would be surprising how little in accordance would frequently be found to be their haunts and habits, with the character which they have left indelibly stamped on the annals of their time. The Emperor Charles V. fêteing and frolicking

with Henry VIII. at Whitehall, Hampton Court, Greenwich, or Winchester; Peter the Great of Russia, driving his sledge through the fine old holly hedges of John Evelyn's house at Woolwich, as his relaxation from the fatigues of ship-carpentering in the dock-yards, which he was there practically learning; Marat, the bloody Marat, the friend of the ferocious Robespierre, who fell by the hand of Charlotte Corday, teaching French at a dissenting academy at Warrington in Lancashire, intimate with all the Aikins and Barbaulds, and some of whose pupils are yet living, of the most opposite characters, both to their tutor and to another of his pupils, the famous fighting Fitzgerald of duelling notoriety. Louis Philippe pursuing the same humble vocation at Richmond; Dr. Franklin busy in London as a journeyman printer; La Mennais seeking employment in London, and refused as stupid looking; or Mina, or Miguel, the lions of London drawing-rooms, surprising all the young ladies with their meekness and gentleness, the more to surprise them afterwards with the news of their bloody deeds. Two of the most extraordinary men, however, of the last century who have made any considerable sojourn in this country, are Alfieri and Rousseau. They were both the apostles of change; the effect of whose writings have been, as in the case of Rousseau, too obvious to need comment, and which in neither case have yet ceased to operate. It may be said that the spirit of the dramas of Alfieri is, indeed, the spirit of modern Italy, and will, unless all ordinary prognostics fail, yet shew itself in events that will agitate all Europe. Like the volcanic fires of

that country, it is burning on, and, though it only shews itself now and then, in fugitive scintillations and abortive flashes, it is still accumulating for a grand explosion, which will either. annihilate the oppressors or the oppressed. Whenever that day arrives, the name of Alfieri will be the watchword, as his works have long been the food, of liberty.

Yet how few in England who are ardent admirers of Alfieri's impassioned tragedies, reflect how much of his history and his fortunes were mixed up with this country. His exploits here in his early youth made noise enough at the time, but that time is gone by; and we read his works, treading on the very ground on which he then trod, yet thinking of him only as the fiery Italian poet in his own Italy.

Alfieri made no less than three visits to England, the first and second of which were of many months each; in fact, he spent altogether little less than two years here, and has left the following testimony of his attachment to the country. 'England, and especially the metropolis, highly delighted me at first sight. The roads, the females, the absence of mendicity, the neatness and convenience of the houses, the incessant bustle in the suburbs as well as in the capital, all conspired to fill my mind with delight. In my future visits to England, I never found any reason to change this favourable opinion. . . In fact, after much travelling and observation, the only two countries of Europe in which I have uniformly wished to fix my residence, are England and Italy; because, in the former art has everywhere changed and subjugated nature; and because