said to be affected by the direction and force of the wind, and at the present day the fountain presents the same phenomena described by Pliny. Similar springs exist in different parts of England.

On the borders of the Lake of Como is situated the villa occupied by the late Queen, of which the following short description is given by Mr. Cadell, in his Journey through Carniola, Italy, and France: "To see the Lake, we proceed in a boat. Two miles and a half up, and near the water's edge, on the west bank of the Lake, is a villa belonging to the Princess of Wales, bought from General Pino, and now (1818) for sale. The house presents a front of considerable size. The ground attached to the villa is of small extent. A road has been made, at the expense of the Princess, along the side of the Lake, from the village to Como.'

Mr. Rogers has celebrated, in his beautiful poem of "Italy," an incident which befel him while sailing over the Lake of Como :

In a strange land,

Such things, however trifling, reach the heart,
And through the heart the head, clearing away
The narrow notions that grow up at home,
And in their place planting good-will to all.
At least I found it so; nor less at eve,
When, bidden as an English traveller,
('Twas by a little boat that gave me chase,
With oar and sail, as homeward-bound I crossed
The bay of Trammezine), right readily

I turned my prow and followed, landing soon
Where steps of purest marble met the wave;
Where, through the trellises and corridors,
Soft music came, as from Armida's palace,
Breathing enchantment o'er the woods, the waters;

The

And, through a bright pavilion, bright as day,
Forms such as hers were flitting, lost among
Such as of old in sober pomp swept by;
Such as adorn the triumphs and the feasts
Painted by Cagliari; where the world danced
Under the starry sky, while I looked on,
Listening to Monti, quaffing gramolata,
And reading, in the eyes that sparkled round,
The thousand love adventures written there.
Can I forget, no never, such a scene,
So full of witchery. Night lingered still,
When, lit by Lucciole, I left Bellagio;
But the strain followed me; and still I saw
Thy smile, Angelica; and still I heard
Thy voice, once and again bidding adieu.

pen

of Mr. Wordsworth, also, has been well employed in celebrating the beauties of the Lake of Como.

More pleased my foot the hidden margin roves
Of Como, bosom'd deep in chestnut groves,
To flat-roof'd towns, that touch the water's bound,
Or lurk in woody sunless glens profound;
Or from the bending rocks obtrusive cling,
And on the whiten'd wave their shadows fling;
While round the steeps the little pathway twines,
And silence loves its purple roof of vines.
The viewless lingerer hence at evening sees,
From rock-hewn steps, the sail between the trees;
Or marks, mid opening cliffs, fair dark-eyed maids
Tend the small harvest of their garden glades;
Or stops the solemn mountain shades to view
Stretch o'er the pictured mirror broad and blue,
Tracking the yellow sun from steep to steep,
As up the opposing hills with tortoise foot they creep.

said to be affected by the direction and force of the wind, and at the present day the fountain presents the same phenomena described by Pliny. Similar springs exist in different parts of England.

On the borders of the Lake of Como is situated the villa occupied by the late Queen, of which the following short description is given by Mr. Cadell, in his Journey through Carniola, Italy, and France: "To see the Lake, we proceed in a boat. Two miles and a half up, and near the water's edge, on the west bank of the Lake, is a villa belonging to the Princess of Wales, bought from General Pino, and now (1818) for sale. The house presents a front of considerable size. The ground attached to the villa is of small extent. A road has been made, at the expense of the Princess, along the side of the Lake, from the village to Como.'

66

Mr. Rogers has celebrated, in his beautiful poem of Italy," an incident which befel him while sailing over the Lake of Como :

In a strange land,

Such things, however trifling, reach the heart,
And through the heart the head, clearing away
The narrow notions that grow up at home,
And in their place planting good-will to all.
At least I found it so; nor less at eve,
When, bidden as an English traveller,
('Twas by a little boat that gave me chase,
With oar and sail, as homeward-bound I crossed
The bay of Trammezine), right readily

I turned my prow and followed, landing soon
Where steps of purest marble met the wave;
Where, through the trellises and corridors,
Soft music came, as from Armida's palace,
Breathing enchantment o'er the woods, the waters;

And, through a bright pavilion, bright as day,
Forms such as hers were flitting, lost among
Such as of old in sober pomp swept by;
Such as adorn the triumphs and the feasts
Painted by Cagliari; where the world danced
Under the starry sky, while I looked on,
Listening to Monti, quaffing gramolata,
And reading, in the eyes that sparkled round,
The thousand love adventures written there.
Can I forget, no never, such a scene,
So full of witchery. Night lingered still,
When, lit by Lucciole, I left Bellagio;
But the strain followed me; and still I saw
Thy smile, Angelica; and still I heard
Thy voice, once and again bidding adieu.

The pen of Mr. Wordsworth, also, has been well employed in celebrating the beauties of the Lake of Como.

More pleased my foot the hidden margin roves
Of Como, bosom'd deep in chestnut groves,
To flat-roof'd towns, that touch the water's bound,
Or lurk in woody sunless glens profound;
Or from the bending rocks obtrusive cling,
And on the whiten'd wave their shadows fling;
While round the steeps the little pathway twines,
And silence loves its purple roof of vines.
The viewless lingerer hence at evening sees,
From rock-hewn steps, the sail between the trees;
Or marks, mid opening cliffs, fair dark-eyed maids
Tend the small harvest of their garden glades;
Or stops the solemn mountain shades to view
Stretch o'er the pictured mirror broad and blue,
Tracking the yellow sun from steep to steep,
As up the opposing hills with tortoise foot they creep.

COMO.

Quid agit Comum, tuæ meæque deliciæ ?

PLIN. EPIST.

THE town of Como is of considerable antiquity, and owes its chief celebrity to the circumstance of its having been the birth-place of the younger Pliny, of whom a statue is erected in front of the cathedral. It was the delight of Pliny to adorn his native town, and to establish amongst his fellow-citizens institutions for the encouragement of learning. His admirable arguments in favour of the formation of an university at Como are particularly interesting at the present time, when a similar experiment has been so successfully tried in our own metropolis. "Being lately at Comum, the place of my nativity, a young lad, son to one of my neighbours, made me a visit. I asked him whether he studied rhetoric, and where? He told me he did, and at Mediolanum. And why not here? Because, said his father, who came with him, we have no professors. No! said I; surely it nearly concerns you who are fathers (and very opportunely, several of the company were), that your sons should receive their education here rather than any where else. For where can they be placed more agreeably than in their own country, or instructed with more safety and less expense than at