ten less than two months before his death prophecy :

"It is my firm conviction that we, partic are rapidly hastening towards barbarism; a better in France.

"That we are threatened with devastatio hundred years ago, is, I am sorry to say, ju and the end of the tale will be, despotism enth versal ruin. In fifty years, and probably will be no trace left of free institutions, or t press, throughout all Europe, at least on the few of the things which have happened since Paris have surprised me."

The half of that period has scarce elapsed, tication of Niebuhr has been all but realized Piedmont excepted, there is no trace left of or the freedom of the press, in Southern and Nor will these nations ever be able to lift th the gulph into which they have fallen. Revolu war, will only hasten the advent of a central We know of only one agency,-even Christian reviving the virtue and self-government of and the moral strength of nations, can recover If Christianity can be diffused, well; if not, I d with Niebuhr that, on the Continent at least, w return of "the dark ages," and "despotism ent universal ruin."

CHAPTER IX.

ARCO DELLA PACE.

Depressing Effect produced by Sight of Slavery-The Castle of MilanNon-intercourse of Italians and Austrians-Arco della Pace--Contrasted with the Duomo-Evening-Ambrose-Milanese Inquisition-The Two Symbols.

It was now drawing towards evening; and I must needs see the sun go down behind the Alps. There are no sights like those which nature has provided for us. What are embattled cities and aisled cathedrals to the eternal hills, with their thunder-clouds, and their rising and setting suns? Making my exit by the northern gate of the city, I soon forgot, in the presence of the majestic mountains, the narrow streets and clouded faces amid which I had been wandering. Their peaks seemed to look serenely down upon the despots and armies at their feet; and at sight of them, the burden I had carried all day fell off, and my mind mounted at once to its natural pitch. How crushing must be the endurance of slavery, if even the sight of it produces such prostration! Day by day it eats into the soul, weakening its spring, and lowering its tone, till at last the man becomes incapable of

noble thoughts or worthy deeds; and then we because he lies down contentedly in his chains, on the heads of his oppressors.

Emerging from the lanes of the city, I foun spacious esplanade, enclosed on three of its si rows of noble elms, and bounded on the rema the cafés and wine-shops of the city, filled wi loquacious, if not gay, loiterers. In the middle nade rose the Castle of Milan,-a gloomy and of irregular form, but of great strength. It was this donjon that the beacon was to be kindled call Lombardy to arms, in the projected insurre The soft green of the esplanade was pleasantly d groupes in the Austrian uniform, who loitered a played games on the sward. But neither here n nor anywhere else, did I ever see the slightest i twixt the soldiers and the populace. On the co seemed on every occasion to avoid each other, as of different nations, but of different eras.

There are two monuments, and only two, in It deem its modern architecture from the reproac degeneracy. One of these is the Triumphal A known also as the Arco della Pace. It was full where I stood, rising on the northern edge of with the line of road stretching out from it, an and on towards the Alps, over which it climbs famous Simplon Pass. I crossed the plain in tl the Arco della Pace, to have a nearer inspection more to my taste than the Duomo. The Ca as I admired it, had a bewildering and dissipati presented a perfect universe of towers, pinnacle flashing in the Italian sun, and in the yet

splendour of its own beauty. But, stript of the tracery with which it is so profusely covered, and the countless statues that nestle in its niches, it would be a withered, naked, and unsightly thing, like a tree in winter. Not so the arch to which I was advancing. It rose before me in simple grandeur. It might be defaced,—it might grow old; but its beauty could not perish while its form remained. It presents but one simple and grand idea; and, seen once, it never can be forgotten. It takes its place as an image of beauty, to dwell in the mind for ever. To look upon it was to draw in concen

tration and strength.

I found this arch guarded by a Croat,-beauty in the keeping of barbarism. Much I wondered what sensations it could produce in such a mind: of course, I had no means of knowing. I touched the arch with my palm, to ascertain the quality of its polish and workmanship. The Croat made a threatening gesture, which I took as a hint not to repeat the action. I walked under it,—walked round it,—viewed it on all sides; 'but why should I describe what the engraver's art has made so familiar all over Europe? And such is the power of a simple and sublime idea,—whether the pen or the chisel has given it body, to transmit itself, and retain its hold on the mind, that, though I had only now seen the Arco della Pace for the first time, I felt as if I had been familiar with it all my life; and so, doubtless, does my reader. The little squat figure, with the swarthy face, and dull, cold eye, that kept pacing beside it, watched me all the while my survey was going on. Sorely must it have puzzled him to discover the cause of the interest I took in it. Most probably he took me for a necromancer, whose simple word might transport the arch across the Alps. The very spirit of peace pervaded the scene around the Arco della Pace. Peace descended from the summits of the Alps,

and peace breathed upon me from the tops of was sweet to see the gathering of the shadows plain; it was sweet to see the waggoner com the great Simplon road; it was sweet to see th unyoke his bullocks, and come wending his over the rich ploughed land, beneath the beaut of the vine; sweet even were the city-stirs, as distance, they broke upon the ear; but sweete it to mark the sun's departure among the Alps have fancied the mountains a wall of sapphire terrestrial paradise,-some blessed clime, wher thirst, and pain, and sorrow, were unknown. were Lombardy, what meant the Croat besid black eagle blazoned on the flag, that I saw Castle of Milan? The sight of these symbols pression recalled the haggard faces and toil-ben seen on my journey to Milan. I thought of th which the sun of Lombardy ripens only that the reap them, and the fertile vines which the I only that the Croat may gather them. I thoug thousand expatriated citizens whose lands the G confiscated, and of the victims that pined in th dungeons of Lombardy; and I felt that truly radise. To me, who could demand my passpo the Alps whenever I pleased, these mountains sight; but what could the poor Lombard, w might order to prison or to execution on the them, but the walls of a vast prison?

The light was fast fading, and I re-crossed th my way back to the city. High above its spires and turrets of the Duomo, looking pal light, and reminding one of a cluster of Norw