we trace that departure from the tradition of the monotonous acanthus-leaf which was to blossom forth into such wonders at the Cathedrals of Cologne, Chartres, York, and Burgos. The frescos in S. Catherine's chapel it would take too long to describe; a medallion head of the saint is especially noticeable for its great purity of outline and expression, and the heavenly suggestiveness which hallows and rarefies its human beauty. In a cursory sketch such as this, it is impossible to do justice to a subject so vast as Roman art, and we have therefore embodied in it but a few of our personal recollections. The deepest impressions, however, can never be told in words. No one who has visited Rome can ever succeed in fully expressing all his sentiments; there are undefinable sensations that

will assert themselves, though the visitor should strive to the utr.ost to resist and stifle them; there are vivid influences which are felt by the infidel, the Puritan, and the Catholic alike, though the first will not acknowledge them, and the second has too much human respect to put them into tangible shape; still, they exist none the less strongly and may be. r fruit when least expected.

Rome is too much of a landmark in the tale any traveller's life to be passed o be passed o might say of what Rousse

in silence, and one s charm and influence caused to be graven on the pedest of a statue of Eros set up in his grounds near Geneva:

"Passant, adore; voici ton maître ;
Il l'est, le fut, ou le doit être."

("Passing, adore; behold thy master.. He is, he was, or he ought to be.")

ANOTHER shrine most welcome to all who have made a retreat in a house of the Jesuits is the grotto of Manresa. I went to Spain to visit this holy spot. I was enchanted with the wondrous appearance of Montserrat, the most unique mountain, perhaps, on the globe. It looks like some enormous temple or Valhalla built by the Scandinavians in honor of their gods. Picture to yourself a high table-land, and imagine this surmounted by the Giant's Causeway (wherewith doubtless you are familiar from the geography plates), and this again crowned by a multitude of icebergs or by colossal models of the Milan Cathedral, all forming a structure four thousand feet in height and some miles in extent, situated in a beautiful country of rounded hills-the Switzerland of Spain-which make the great mountain more singular and imposing by the contrast. You may thus form an idea of Montserrat, which the pious Catalonians say was thus rent by the thunderbolts of God at the Crucifixion. A famous shrine of the Blessed Virgin lies far up the mount; thirteen hermitages formerly existed, but were destroyed by the French revolutionists. To the shrine of Mary the converted Knight of Loyola repaired for his general confession, and then, retiring to an open cavern in the side of a rocky hill, and having the sublime mountain in view, he entered on the famous retreat which resulted in that great work, the Spiritual Exercises. It was delightful to say Mass in that cavern, preserved in

its original narrow nakedness, and the Mass served by a gentleman from New Granada, himself a pilgrim to this holy place; to see the same shelf of rock on which was written that celebrated book praised by so many popes, and which worked such wonders in the perfecting of soldiers in the spiritual warfare. But the House of Retreat, which still stands on the roof of that rocky cavern, was changed from its original purpose, and, having for a while been used as a hospital, lies now, since the expulsion of the Jesuits, in empty desolation; its altar literally stripped, its chapel in ruins, its library scattered, its corridors open to the elements. Here, at the shrine to which all the novices of the order in the noble church of Spain used to come on foot to refresh their spirit at the Mount of God, where Ignatius had received a message from on high, no one now remains but a lay brother in secular dress, who is allowed, by connivance of the police, to sweep the church and care for the chapels. Two other churches of the society and their colleges. have now no trace of their possession; and of two hundred Jesuits who were formerly here, only three priests and two lay brethren are left, living on alms, and residing in a more wretched lane than could be found in New York.

No Jesuit, Dominican, Franciscan, or other religious, can to-day wear the dress of his order. Their property was confiscated, their libraries broken up; they are forbidden to live in community or receive novices,

and no compensation is given them for the means of living whereof they were deprived. Such is a picture of religious life in that once most noble country, which controlled the empire of the world when she was most devoted to the church. In conversing with a young ecclesiastic, who guided me to the mean dwelling of the Jesuits, up three pairs of dark stairs, he said: "Every one notices the decay of faith and increasing corruption of morals, and all acknowledge that the church militant is practically weak when deprived of the services of her religious orders." I might relate visits to other places, and describe other peoples-tell you of the Cathedral at Burgos, the bearishness of some people I met, the politeness characteristic of others, the beauty of Switzerland, the fresh simplicity of the Tyrol, the peculiar charm of Venice, the prison of SS. Peter and Paul at Rome, the Propaganda College, and so on endlessly; but I have only desired to illustrate a little the pleasure of travel, not to describe everything, which were impossible. So great is the attraction of travelling that a whole people, the gypsies, spend their lives in constant roaming over the world; but their condition, like that of certain classes in civilized communities, shows abundantly that continual wandering is conducive to advancement neither in morals, learning, nor real happiness.

Travellers for health, business, or pleasure are not excluded from the advantages sought by those who travel expressly in pursuit of knowledge. If one but keeps his head cool and his temper quiet, he cannot but pick up a great deal of useful information during his sojourn abroad. Indeed, so true is this that a trip abroad has always been considered the necessary finish to a

young man's education; and I would go so far as to say that no one can pretend to the appellative of educated, in its best sense, unless he has travelled, or at least mingled with the people and observed the institutions of other nations. "The proper study of mankind is man"; and it is excellence in the knowledge of mankind, after the knowledge of God and of self, that constitutes learning. It is not mathematics alone, nor yet languages, nor skill in trades nor navigation: it is to know our condition, and capacity, and progress, and that of other countries; to know what in law and government is most conducive to the social happiness, not simply the material advancement; to the eternal weal, not the temporal aggrandizement only of our race.

The desire of increasing in knowledge, as well as the pleasure the sage finds in the pursuit of wisdom, doubtless it was that sent our great Secretary, Seward, in his white old age, on a tour of the whole world. It was this that made those collectors of learned lore, Anacharsis and Herodotus, leave their polished homecircles, and travel amongst other peoples. It is this that makes the heirs of princely houses set out on the tour of Europe and America, and even Asia, on the completion of their college course, that they may understand their position amongst the nations. It is this that brings the acute and ambitious Japanese across the globe in search of what is desirable in our products; that they may see the truth and value of institutions different from their own.

In order to attain the object of such a journey, we must observe certain conditions. In the first place, we should, if possible, know son some of the languages of the countries through which we intend to pass, or at least some which will

most likely be understood therein; such as, for instance, the French in Italy, Germany, etc., the Italian in Spain, Greece, and Egypt. We are otherwise necessitated to depend on the mediation of a class often found faithless in its duty of exact interpretation. The interpreter, or cicerone, is very likely to digest the information he obtains or to qualify that which he imparts according to the supposed capacity or prejudice of his employer; and, for fear of offending one from whom he expects more money, he will sometimes tell an acceptable lie rather than an unwel come truth. Most unlucky is he who is thus fed with the sweet poison of falsehood rather than the wholesome plainness of truth. What can he gain by travel?

An Irish bishop, standing before the picture of the martyrdom of SS. Processus and Martinianus in the Vatican, heard a young lady behind ask her father what was the subject of the painting. "That's the Inquisition, my dear; they are torturing people in the Inquisition." He look ed like a man who should know how to read, and the name of the picture was on the frame under it; but it is quite possible that his information came from a cicerone, as they have been known to give it just as false and malicious.

In the second place, the traveller must bear in mind that his own nation does not monopolize the goodness or common sense of the world, and that, however unintelligible or absurd the customs of other countries may appear to him, the presumption is in their favor; hence, he must never ridicule anything, never judge rashly, but wait till his ignor

ance is removed and his little experience enlarged to the knowledge of many excellent things that he dreamt not of before, remembering

that, while it is pardonable in children and peculiar to boors to laugh at a strange dress or a foreign custom, it is unworthy of an educated person. We should never be ashamed to learn, nor therefore to ask questions. Benjamin Franklin (or Dr. Johnson) said it was by this means he gained so much information. A doctor should be no more ashamed to ask a farmer about potatoes than he to ask him about pills. Every man should be supposed to know his own trade better than others not of it. It is the folly of supposing themselves all-wise and others know-nothings, that keeps many men bigoted and ignorant.

Finally, a great secret for acquir ing knowledge of strange peoples and understanding their ways is contained in that advice to "put yourself in their place." We will find that, if we were in their place, we would do just the same, or perhaps would not have done so well as we find them doing, and it will prevent us forming very wrong impressions of a government or a people. For instance, when travelling in France, we were subjected to some inconvenience by the police regulations, and were tempted to think these French a narrow-minded, suspicious, timid people, until some one reminded the rest of the surveillance our government had felt itself constrained to exercise on the line of the Potomac, the suspension of the Habeas Corpus, and the imprisonment of edi tors under our own flag; and we were persuaded that France was also excusable, filled as she was with the adherents of three contending political parties, and her territory in part occupied by a conqueror. When we notice something appar ently inconvenient, we must wait and see what is the corresponding advantage. Thus, one may dislike

the brick and marble floors of Italy. Let him wait till summer, and he will like them; or let him reflect on the immunity from conflagrations which is due to them, and then say if the adoption of this flooring instead of wood is not a cheap price to pay for safety. "During a residence of thirty-five years in Florence, I know not a single house to have been burnt." This is what Hiram Powers, the sculptor, testifies. In

like manner, Dickens was not very much taken with the narrow streets and peculiar build of Genoa the Superb, yet he adds: "I little thought that in one year I would love the very stones of the streets of Genoa." When he reached Switzerland on his return home, he was no doubt pleased with the neatness of the people, etc.; but still. . . "the beautiful Italian manners, the sweet language, the quick recognition of a pleasant look or cheerful word, the captivating expression of a desire to oblige in everything, are left behind the Alps. Remembering them, I sighed for the dirt again, the brick floors, bare walls, unplastered ceilings, and broken windows." One of the great advantages we Americans, just as others, gain by travelling is improvement in selfknowledge, which is the foundationstone of wisdom-beginning to look at ourselves as it were from a distance, and to see ourselves as we are seen by others. It is the great profit of this that made the poet exclaim:

Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
And foolish notion."

When we compare the institutions of foreign lands and their results with our own, we learn a juster appreciation of each, and to remedy the defects of our own, if need be. On the one hand, the nothingness. of the in

The

dividual in many parts of Continental Europe, and the " everythingness" of the state, is very intolerable. way, too, the police stare at every one in France, as if you had a suspicious look, while the people side with the officer, not apparently from love of the law, but out of fear, just as all the school-boys quake when one is subjected to the pedagogue's scrutiny. I was in France during Napoleon's despotism, and now under the republic, and it seemed to me that to the people it was all one; they fear whoever is in power. On landing at Calais, our names were peremptorily demanded, as if the nation feared the entrance of some certain individuals who were only known to it by name. I guess such persons would hardly give their names in such a case. In Ireland, so little respect is had for the people that they are not trusted with arms; but, to keep a gun, one must have a written license from the agents of the inexorable government. Then, in most of those countries, the huge barracks of the standing armies, swallowing up hundreds of thousands of strong, healthy youth, and corrupting the morals of the district wherein they are stationed, seemed to insult the people, and to say: "If you don't be quiet, we'll cut you to pieces." And then again their officers strut along in idleness, or kill time by balls, parties, and cricket-playing, while the masses are sweating to support them, or dying in the poorhouses, worn out in the struggle for existence. Of course, there is some palliation for this. The governments of Europe are afraid of each other, and many of them are afraid of their people, too. that we may never fear a foreign foe, or, what is worse, have a government or laws which the people do not love! But if it is insulting

God grant