It is an oblivious world we live in, and well might one of the oldest, if not the first, of our poets deify mutability. To prove that all things here are under her dominion-we need only refer to the names, characters, and events alluded to in these pages.

Florence-la bella she still is, for man cannot mar nature-Florence, that once gave laws to the Italian republics, is dwindled into a powerless and insignificant city; two-thirds of it, once covered with palaces, being converted into fields and vineyards; the largest and most opulent of its streets, once swarming with life, contains but a few scattered miserable cottages, and a dilapidated convent. Its ally-if I may so call the monastery-is utterly demolished, and on its ruins stands the villa of a stranger, who has long ceased to inhabit it. That where the scene of the Decameron was laid, belongs, by a still more singular caprice of the goddess of change, to an English old maid.

The Lanfranchis are extinct. The memory of their former masters -the Medici-to carry on our associations-their Cosimos and Lorenzos-survives but in their avarice and usury, that have been perpetrated by those three balls, that denote a certain disreputable trade in a distant and northern land. And these lovers, no record of them remains, but a stone with this inscription-" Camillo-Angelica"-let into the old wall in imitation of the protestant cemetery at Rome.

When last I visited the spot, this tablet was half covered with ivy and the caper plant, and in a few years will be entirely hidden-nay, the very stone itself moulder away, and form a pabulum in its decomposition, for rank grass, and moss, and weeds.

This tale, too, will have its month, or its day, and be forgotten; but in the hands of the divine Boccaccio, it would have had a fame more durable than marble. The story of this luckless pair would have passed into the mouths of every peasant, their names been enshrined on every heart, and their relics been regarded with more devotion than those of the saints whom, in many a barbarous age, they would have been said by their loves to desecrate.

Our task is completed, and the moral, as suggested by Philippo, is an obvious one. The Torre del Fame, the site of which is a puzzle to the antiquarian, spite of the prediction of Dante, found its counterpart, in that place of still more aggravated horror, in which the last scion of the race of that Lanfranchi, who was a principal actor in bringing about the great scene of famine, perished. And without speaking of the terrible retribution which enemy visited on enemy in the Inferno, we have shown in the words of the great dramatist, that here crimes are the parents of crimes, and beget those like themselves; and may add, that Woe for woe

Sant

Was all the end that house was doomed to know.

follow a straight line towards the old wall made ten paces, and under the broad flag stone in the as I did, the mouldering skeletons of this hapless twain.

of the monastery, till he bas main street, he will discover, Peace be with their manes.

Aug.-VOL. LXV. NO. CCLX.

2 K

How little is known of the real state of the clergy, except by the clergy themselves, or the country gentlemen near whom they live, or have their livings: which is not precisely the same thing, as a very great number of them cannot make a living by their livings. I say country gentlemen, because, generally speaking, they appreciate the companionship of a scholar and a gentleman, although he may happen to have an ill-cut and rather seedy coat upon his shoulders, and a deficiency of the precious metals in his napless but neatly-brushed trouser's pockets.

They do not think it necessary to exclude him from their hospitable boards because he cannot afford "four suits a year and the old ones taken in exchange." They appreciate the open-handedness that keeps him poor. They enter into all his little plans for the benefit of his humble hearers, and aid by their contributions the good cause for which, if he do his duty, he pleads in private as well as public. His domestic circumstances are well known to them, and his struggles to educate and place out in the world his numerous olive branches, are seen, admired, and aided by them.

Parsons are proverbially great populators of their country. The preventive check has not yet found its way into the parsonages of Great Britain; and in spite of all the political economists that ever lived, male or female (anti-populatrices I consider anomalies in nature), I trust the day may be very far distant that shall see such an unnatural engine introduced into the prolific walls of our manses.

The two last sentences are parenthetic, so I proceed.

In great towns the private affairs of the clergy are not so well known as they are in villages and hamlets. Although the neighbouring great man, be he lord or commoner, may invite the rector or vicar of the neighbouring city or borough, whose representation in parliament he kindly takes under his especial care, to dine with him once or twice a year, and give largely in aid of coal and soup subscriptions at Christmas, he very seldom knows or cares anything about Mistress Rector or Mistress Vicar, and their nine or ten little incumbrances that eat the bread of carefulness at their frugal tables.

The great brewer, the banker, and the lawyer, may not consider it a disgrace to have the parson to say grace for them before and after their soup, fish, joints, poultry, and entrées-they may even ask him to take

champagne with them. They may contribute their guinea towards the schools he has established, and put gold into the plate after a charitysermon; they may even ask his wife and daughters to tea and piano, and his sons to play cricket with their boys; but in spite of all this condescension, they are quite in the dark as to all the little painful struggles that are necessary to enable his family to accept these invitations.

They hear of his being very good to the poor, and applaud him for it, but they know not to how many uses the shilling bestowed in charity might be put for those of his own house-they rather wonder that he should limit himself and lady to two glasses of Marsala at twenty-two shillings a dozen after dinner.

It may be truly said there are some clergymen, of high birth and large fortunes, and others who either from merit or patronage, revel in wellendowed rectories, snug prebends, comfortable canonries, and delightful deaneries-but what are they among so many ?-rari aves, rari pisces (and very odd fishes some of them are), nantes in gurgite vasto of the thousands with stipends, smaller and less regularly paid than the salaries of the "pampered menials" who ride behind the carriages, or wait at the tables of the gentry of the land, or "the landed gentry," whichever the reader pleases.

I could extend these preliminary remarks to the end of the chapter, but I am not about to write an essay on church matters-merely to tell a tale-so il me faut commençer.

"And where do you intend going?" inquired my friend the Professor, as we sat at breakfast, playing a duet on coffee and hot-rolls, in his chambers in Lincoln's-inn.

"I have not the remotest idea," said I; "I am tired of writing original matter, and correcting my own and the printer's errors, and am resolved to have a quiet week's holiday somewhere."

"Let me see," said the Professor, as he put his glass to his eye to enable him to do so. 66 Brighton is out of season, Cheltenham spoilt by over-building and counterfeit salts, Leamington triste to a degree, Bath obliterated from the list of watering-places, and Harrowgate-"

"Do not trouble yourself to go through the list," said I, interrupting my friend; "I do not call going to a "watering-place"-the very name gives me the idea of a house of call for hackney-coach horseshaving a quiet holiday. The summer has just set in, but not with its accustomed severity. The gales blow genially from the south; the May-fly is on the water, and the trout, I hope, on the rise. I shall take my little carpet-bag and my fishing-tackle, walk into Piccadilly, and take my seat on the very first coach I see that is ready to start on the Western road, and beg of the driver to deposit my person at any village inn which he, in his experience, may recommend to me, where I may be snug and comfortable, and enjoy my favourite sport-fly fishing."

"Not a bad idea," said the Professor; "I wish I could go with you, though I cannot Xerxesize the waters, and torment trout with deceptive ephemera. I can look on and-and-smoke a cigar," (he

might have said a dozen, with a running accompaniment of brandy and water; indeed, his mouth instinctively opens so widely at the bare mention of them, that I an obliged to say to him in the words of Horace

Quid vult tanto professor hiatû,)

"but I cannot go. I have a consultation at ten, on Slowe versus Toddleon, and at half-past a brief in—”

"Good morning," said I, as I knew that if once my friend got upon business, he would not allow me to go until he had given me an hour's brief sketch of the speech he meant to make on his brief, which, as I hate law and lawyers-as lawyers-the profession not the personwould have proved disagreeable as well as inconvenient.

"Going down, sir?" said a cad at the coach-office of the White Horse Cellar.

"Yes," said I.

"What coach, sir?"

"I don't care which."

Cad looked as if he thought me a "rum customer," but civilly asked,

"Short or long?"

"What coach is that just starting?"

"The Exeter Highflier-one of the fastest out of London. Room for two outs and an in," replied the cad.

In a few seconds I was seated behind the coachman on the roof. As soon as we were off the stones, and I could make use of my voice without having the rattles in my throat, I explained my wishes to Jehu, who promised to enable me to fulfil them.

He kept his word, and after a delightful drive of some five or six hours duration, he deposited me and my luggage at a pretty little inn in the pretty little village of Clearstream, in the pretty county of Hants.

As soon as I had ascertained that I could have the use of a parlour and bedroom for a week, I begged to be allowed to speak to the landlord. He was out fishing.

66

May I be allowed to join him?" said I.

"Certainly, sir. Here, Boots! show this gentleman across the meadows to the Tumbling Bay, where your master spends the greater part of his time," said the landlady-a little maliciously as I thought.

As I had made an excellent luncheon at Mrs. Botham's, of the Pelican, in Speenhamland-a house now, alas! railwayed of its glories-I started at once, meaning to sup heartily on trout-if I should be lucky enough to catch any. I found " mine host" whipping away energetically and scientifically. A few masonic words and signals showed him I was one of the gentle craft-so called, I presume, from their using gentles in their art—and in a very few minutes I was literally" up to my knees" in business-or pleasure.

The trout were numerous and hungry; our creels were soon filled; and as I walked back with mine host, I was so pleased at my success, and at his generosity in giving me up the best casts, that I asked him to join me at supper. He agreed; and I must say he did justice to

the trout, which were in high season- "as pink as salmon, and as crisp as a cabbage-leaf," according to his description of them.

After supper, our first talk was, of course, about the art we both "fondly loved"-it is a strong term, and one difficult to be understood but by those who love the art-and about the streams, the deeps, the runs, and the mill-tails in the neighbourhood. I heard sufficient to convince me that I had been well recommended by the driver of the Exeter Highflier, and resolved to give him an additional tip on my return for his sagacity in placing me so well.

As I thought it possible that I might introduce myself to some brother of the angle who would relieve the monotony of a daily tête-à-tête with mine host, I inquired about the society of the village, but found that, excepting the vicar and the apothecary, its inhabitants were of a very humble class, mere cultivators of the soil of Clearstream -hedgers and ditchers-thrashers and thatchers.

"And the vicar," I asked. "What sort of a man is he?"

"A worthy and excellent old gentleman, sir," replied mine host. "He has not been with us very long, but we all like him. He has been a fisherman, too, sir; but age and rheumatism forbid his gratifying his taste-but it don't much matter. He came from somewhere out of Wales, among the mountain streams. He is a mere wormbobber-cannot throw a fly or spin a minnow. He never hooked a trout above a pound, though he says he has taken three or four dozen brace in a day. How very small they must run."

"Is he difficult to approach ?" I inquired.

"Oh, no," replied the landlord, mistaking the meaning of my question. "He lives just down by the church, and his gate is always open."

I resolved to call next day and request him to show me his church; and, if I found him an agreeable person, to cultivate his acquaint

ance.

I put my resolution into force, and sent in my card with my compliments. I was ushered into a little room, which I found was called the study, and found a benevolent-looking, elderly man engaged in tutoring two little boys and a little girl, who, from the likeness they bore to himself, were evidently his own children.

He rose and begged me to be seated. A hint was given to the little girl, and ere we had settled the weather question, with which, as true Britons, we opened our converse, she returned, followed by the maid, who carried a tray, on which were placed the materials for a little luncheon.

I took some bread-and-cheese, with a glass of particularly good, mild ale. He and his children joined me, and I felt, in a quarter of an hour, as if I was sitting among old young friends. I love children -spoilt ones being excluded-and love to draw them out. I love dogs, too, and both dogs and children know instinctively who love them. How we did talk and laugh-we fairly rattled away" for half an hour; when a nod from the father operated like the nod of some great Prospero, and the children and the luncheon vanished.

"Now, dear sir," said the vicar, "tell me your business-in what can I aid you. My means are but small, but as far as they go I am ready to-"