of one was a convent, where we slept the first night, and found a good supper and a hospitable welcome. My vetturino, I must confess, was somewhat of a convivialist, and, to beguile the time, sang Tasso and Ariosto's beautiful verses, with Stentorian lungs, even up to the very gates of Bologna.

Bologna la Grassa, so called from the luxurious country in which it stands, its plenty and cheapness, is a very fine city. There are piazzas on each side of the street, which guard passengers equally from sun and rain; those in the city of Chester resemble them in an inferior degree. The principal curiosities are the leaning tower, so often described.

The morning after my arrival, I sought out the house of Signor Passerini, to whom I had a letter, the purport of which was, to request he would place me in a cheap and convenient boarding house, for the short time I had to remain in Bologna. To my surprise I found he was a hair-dresser, but it gave me great pleasure to find in him the father of my respected singing-master, Signor Passerini, who, as the reader will remember, was one of my first instructors. The old man was delighted to hear me repeat anecdotes of his son, whom he had not seen for many years; and I was so gratified to find something like an acquaintance in the old man, that I took lodgings in his house,

where I had a neat first floor, three meals a day, and wine at discretion, (as the French say of bread,) for 17. 88. British per month. His shop was in a central situation, and the high temple of gossip. Numbers of theatrical and literary people frequented it. There I was introduced to Lovatini, whose fame was so great in England, and to Signor Trebi, also a very popular singer: they were natives of Bologna, and had retired from public life with very ample means.

One morning, sitting very quietly in my dressing gown in the shop, to have my hair dressed, I suddenly heard "The Pope! the Pope !" cried out from every quarter. His Holiness had arrived the day before from Rome, and was now on his way to visit Cardinal Buona Compagnia. Regardless of my appearance, my hair half dressed, my face covered with powder, my dressing gown the same and flying open, I rushed out of the shop, and ran after the carriage of his Holiness, even to the very gates of the Cardinal's palace. I was not a little flattered at seeing how completely I divided public attention with his Holiness. Fancying myself to be "a marvellous proper man," I placed this to the score of my personal attractions; but certain symptoms of laughter, which ended in roars, referred me to my dressing gown for an explanation, and I retired at full speed, laughing too, I confess,

although rather mortified to find that I had given more entertainment than I received.

The theatre, which is one of the largest in Europe, was open, and I saw Cimarosa's beautiful opera, “Il Falegname," ably performed by three great buffo singers-Mandini, Blassi, and Leperini. At this period, Bologna was the mart (the carnival being over in all other places) to which actors from all parts of Italy resorted, to make their future engagements. The large Café dei Virtuosi was filled with them from morning till night, and it was really amusing to see them swarm round a manager the moment he entered. I passed much of my time there, and there first saw and heard the two extraordinary blind brothers, called "Le bravi Orbi." They were natives of Bologna, and during the spring and summer travelled to Rome, Naples, Venice, &c. ; their talents were every where held in the highest estimation; the one played the violin with exquisite taste, the other the violoncello with such wonderful execution, as to have obtained from the Bolognese the additional cognomen of " Spacca note". Split note." I never missed an opportunity of hearing them. Signor Lovatini took me to see the Specola Museum, which the Bolognese consider the finest in the world. I was astonished to hear that the wax figures there, were the work of a female, a

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mative of the town. I also saw the church of La Madonna della Santa Lucia, where she is to be seen as large as life; the church stands on a hill, and, to guard La Madonna from bad weather, when she is carried in procession, a covered way, nearly six miles in length, has been built as an approach to it.

I had a letter to deliver to a Bolognese nobleman, Signor Ferussini, a singular character, though a very worthy man; he was frightfully ugly and hump-backed, yet he was afflicted with the disease of supposing every woman who saw him in love with him; as he was rich he spared no expense in adorning himself, in order to set off his charms to the best advantage. I was waiting for him one morning, when he came from his toilette, dressed in a new suit, of the richest and most expensive quality-painted, patched, and made up in every possible way. He placed himself before a large mirror, and indulged himself thus:-" I am handsome, young, and amiable; the women follow me, and I am healthy and rich-what on earth do I want ?"-" Common sense, you rascal,” said his father (who had just entered the room) in a fury, and immediately knocked him down. Even the immortal Liston might take a lesson in the ludicrous, from my astonished Adonis !

I found here by accident Signora Palmini, the

prima donna, who was engaged to sing with me at Venice. We agreed to travel together. She was a very handsome woman, though on a large scale; her husband, au contraire, was a diminutive shrivelled old man, and jealous in the extreme: he, with her mother (an ugly old body,) a little black boy, a servant, and a lap-dog, composed her suite. With these rational and pleasing companions did I embark in the canal passage-boat from Bologna to Ferrara; it was drawn by horses, and nearly half the time employed in getting through the locks. When we arrived at Ferrara, we determined on remaining there a day to look about us : and accordingly left our boat, and went to the Hôtel de St. Marc; we had a very good dinner, and a very merry landlord. He told us many stories in his talkative way: amongst others, one of the mad poet, Ariosto, as he chose to call

him.

It appears that Ariosto, one day passing a potter's shop in Ferrara, heard the owner singing a stanza of the Orlando Furioso. Attracted by his own poetry, he listened, and found that the potter mangled it most miserably, rendering a most beautiful passage rank nonsense. This so enraged the poet, that, having a stick in his hand, he laid about him lustily, and broke every thing he could reach. When the poor devil of a potter expos