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to find in him the one who would guide her and lead | energy; the vitality that is in them has no adequate her into all that it was right and desirable she should mode of manifestation, unless they have a definite become the one being on whom she might implicitly profession. If they are in private life, all their rely. And what is it that they find, with their in-energy is flung back upon them; it becomes overlaid complete maturity, their undeveloped capabilities, with ennui, and they sink into apparent indolence their crude imaginings, vchement feelings, and blind and quietness, but a diseased action goes on withinaspirations after something better and stronger than they are restless, discontented, having so much more themselves? Poor broken, fluttering things that they energy than they can employ; greedy after exciteare! with indications of whatever is pure, lovely, and ment, no matter of what kind, their talents and their of good report, yet without the strength or knowledge life are fretted away together. In private life, their to educe meaning and order from all the precious soul's energy has no outlet but love-love, or rell. things crushed together and fermenting within them, gion-and that never comes till afterwards; so they they do need guidance-they call for it earnestly and throw themselves headlong into a grande passion, passionately, and what is the guidance they find and go to the devil, if the devil stands in their way. an appeal to their sense of gracefulness!-the standard It is a fearful responsibility to have to deal with such of right and wrong offered to them is the approbation women; and your rules of taste are hardly likely to of us men; all their virtues and qualities are degraded prove rules of life to such fiery natures, in such emerinto charms; no higher motive is ever suggested to gencies. They require a living principle, by which them than that of being agreeable to us; they are to they may guide themselves aright. For, depend upon be flavoured with virtues and tinctured with accom- it, to such as these, it is a very small matter to be plishments, just up to the point to meet the taste of judged by men's judgment. They have an instinct the day, but never with the intent to strengthen their for right and truth, and nothing but being taught own hearts and souls. A woman is a rational being, and guided to perceive aright that which really is,' with reasonable soul and human flesh subsisting, and can control their passionate wayward nature. Rules yet she is never educated for her own sake, to enable and decorums, and the three thousand punctualities,' her to lead her own life better; her qualities and fall from them like green withes.' A man is never talents are not considered sacred personalities, but are embarrassed by any qualities he may possess; he has modified, like the feet of Chinese women, to meet an always a legitimate channel for their employment." arbitrary taste. What is the most stringent caution ever offered to young women to lead their life by? It is, 'Do not do so and so, do not say so and so, before MEN; they do not admire it.' When it was the question about giving women education- Men do not like learning in women,' was the grand argument used. Men are allowed to examine into their religious opinions, to be philosophers, to be sceptics, to be no religion at all, if they please; but has it not been said a million times, No man would permit his wife to be an infidel;' not because it is a bad thing for her, personally, but because 'religion in a woman looks so lovely.' And yet a woman has a soul of her own to be saved; but she is never appealed to on that ground. She is exhorted to be modest, because modesty is her great charm;' and as to female virtue, that is legislated for on the score of its social convenience; and though there is no end to the fine things that have been said in compliment to it, yet they all resolve themselves into that. Then their gentleness and softness are 'so lovely,' and are preached up in all the books written with the purport of teaching the women of England their duty-and "It puts me out of all patience," cried Melton, no other motive is ever given. It no doubt is highly" to hear of nothing but the becoming,' and the desirable that women should be all these things; but what I complain of is, the all-pervading sensualism which runs through the education and legislation men have provided for women. If women were machines, were in very deed our property, then, indeed, all this might answer; but they are not, and there is no possibility of educating them up to the point of being conveniently fascinating, and then stopping short; they have higher qualities existing in them, and unless those qualities are appealed to, you cannot hold them, or influence them; they are living souls, and you cannot dogmatise to a life, nor cut it out according to pattern."

"Well, but my dear fellow," interrupted Conrad, "the women who follow their own devices, and insist on being strong-minded women, are deucedly disagreeable; and they always end by making fools of

themselves."'

"Those women who have strong qualities, decided tastes, aspirations after higher and better modes of life, possessing genius, in short, have no vent for their

"And so have women," cried Conrad; "there is always plenty for them to do. Let them find out some man wiser and better than themselves, and make themselves into a beautiful reflex of his best qualities. It would be far better, and more becoming, in a woman, to do this, than to set up, on her own basis, as a superior, independent being. Let her be agreeable and good tempered, and make his life hap pier. What can she desire better? It is no good, my dear fellow, your going on in this way about the rights of women; in the long run, people always get as much as they deserve; and if women are so illtreated, as you say they are, it is just because they do not induce anything better; any way, they were never intended to go blazing about with distracted reputations, as authoresses, actresses, and what not. No good ever came of it yet; they are neither happier, nor more respected for it. If they admired a higher order of character, in men, I suppose men would have to improve themselves to meet the demand accordingly. So what is the good of talking, and wanting to make women disagreeable?"

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agreeable;' there are qualities, even in women, of infinitely more importance. To be agreeable,' is not before all things necessary, even in a woman: they never were intended to lead a purely relative life; and, until they cease to be educated with a sole view to what men admire, they will never be any better than they are. We require virtue, and strength, and truth, and reality, from women; grace and agreeableness are secondary qualities. I can tolerate a woman with real genius and qua lifications for it, following a profession, because, to a degree, it gives her a personal and independent existence. The objections you raise are accidental, not essential; and I believe in the possibility of finding women who pursue art, for the love of art, and not for the glorification of themselves. What, however, can be worse than the present order of things? As things now stand, in what does the delectable state of refinement, helpless confiding delicacy,' and all the trash in which women are educated end? If a woman has not a family, or a pro.

fession, to occupy her time, she either takes to drinking, or intriguing, or to playing the deuce in some way, and all to deaden and distract the ennui that eats into her vitality-vitality which she has never been taught, adequately to employ; and to which, in the end, Actron-like, she falls a prey. Your ideal of a woman would not stand the wear and tear of real life. Weakness is not grace, for that requires well-controlled strength. Women have an inner life as real as that of man, as full of struggles and griefs; if they are to be kept from evil, they must have as strong a law of right and wrong to control them; they must not have their moral sense palled and tampered with by conserves of morality, or a gospel according to gracefulness; there is only ONE law of what is really right, for men or for women, and no second motive, no sense of decorum, will stand either man or woman in stead in the hour of trial. A sense of propriety cannot swallow up temptation. I am not a stickler for the rights of women,' if by those you mean becoming a soldier, or a lawyer, or a member of Parliament. The rights they really do want, though they cannot so well articulate them, is to have a sense of right or wrong inculcated for its own sake, and not to have the life choked out of them by having the decorums and ⚫ the becoming' eternally substituted for it-not to have their lives and souls frittered into a shape to meet the notion of a truly feminine character,' but to be allowed to grow up freely, and to have their natural characters developed as God made them."

CHAMBERS'S LIBRARY FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. No. 3. UNCLE SAM'S MONEYBox. By Mrs. S. C. Hall.-(W. and R. Chambers, Edinburgh.)-The admirable publications of the Messrs. Chambers are so widely circulated, that it is almost a work of supererogation

And yet we

to allude to them in our pages. cannot quite pass by the "Library for Young People," the first volume of which, "Or andino,' was written by the venerable and venerated Maria Edgeworth, who in her eightieth year was tempted once more to take up her pen, for the delight and instruction of the grandchildren of those whom her carlier productions had taught and amused. The second volume consisted of three tales, published anonymously, but worthy to follow that of Miss Edgeworth. "Uncle Sam's Money-Box," by Mrs. S. C. Hall, forms the next of the series, and need we to say that it is a charming tale, simple enough to please the young-wise enough to delight children of a larger growth. We must not spoil the interest of the tale by telling readers to whom it may yet be new what the "MoneyBox" really is. But it is not one made of iron, or wood, or paper, or tin, or anything man ever manufactured; and yet it is one we all have, if we only knew how to fill and to use it. But if we will cram it with rubbish, or leave it empty, what can we draw out?

THE CURATE OF WILDMERE.-(Newby, -The Curate of Wildmere is a person of no common interest, and his eventful history is told in a touching, yet powerful manner. The other characters are well and naturally pourtrayed: the dialogue is spirited, often brilliant, and the language excellent. We cannot conclude our notice without mentioning some children who figure in the tale, and whose individuality is touched with so true and skilful a hand, that their delineation considerably enhances the interest of the novel.

AMUSEMENTS OF THE

ROYAL ITALIAN OPERA.

The season here opened with "Tancredi"-an opera which has long lain dormant, on account of the almost impossibility of finding an adequate Tancred. Since Pasta, no contralto has ever achieved a real undoubted success in this difficult part. It foiled the great Malibran, with all her wonderful genius; Brambilla, that clever singer and actress, whose Orsino and Arsace were unrivalled until Alboni appeared-even she failed in Tancredi. Therefore, if the charming Marietta has not been so ultra-charming in this difficult role, it is not surprising. She is a better Tancred than any who have succeeded Pasta; and another half century will probably pass before a rival to that wonderful tragic singer appears. Alboni's singing throughout is as perfect as singing can be; but her acting is hardly masculine enough for this great trial of a woman's power. No one but a Pasta, or an Italian Charlotte Cushman, could compass the difficulty. Madame Persiani's Amenaide was perfectly delicious. In her very first song,

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MONTH.

"Come dolce all' alma mia,” she fairly took the audience by surprise with her wonderful vocalization; producing effects which had seemed impossible to the human voice. The duet with Tancredi, "Lasciami, non t'ascolto," was given by herself and Alboni with irresistible power. The wonderful pathos of Alboni's deep tones was never heard to greater perfection. She seemed to recover from her languid style, which on the first night sadly disappointed the audience. A contemporary paper apologised for the young vocalist, on the plea of tooth-ache. Alas! that the arch-enemy, Odontalgia, should ever come nigh the queen of contraltos! The prayer, "Giusto Ciel!" was excellently well done by Persiani; but we must protest against a sad error of taste, in adding to Rossini's magnificent air, Pacini's worthless cabaletta. The finale crowned Amenaide with success; Persiani has never gained a more deserved ovation than was paid to her on the opening night of 1848. The male characters in "Tancredi" are of little importance, Rossini seeming to have intended his opera exclusively for the benefit of the fairer

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sex: still Signors Luegi Mei, and Polonini it now? We think not. Careful revisal may were quite as efficient in their parts as could be make the serious plays of its date endurable, nay wished, for the success of the whole. The in-pleasing, to an audience of our more refined strumentalists added their contribution to the generation; but comedies, which drew their opera without a fault. Costa is the best of chief wit out of the foul wells whence our conductors. The fine overture-which the hack- ancestors drank, must surely be best " laid on ing of every school-girl cannot make common- the shelf." Besides, putting aside their immoplace was never given with greater taste and rality, we have little faith in the superior powers musical light and shade. of the old dramatists. The rumour of Brooke's engagement here gives promise of good things to come. Surely Mr. Webster, to whom the drama of the present day owes so much, will enable the public to judge of this great modern actor in a great modern play, in which his own original powers may be tested, without being hampered by the prestige of dead and buried predecessors, as to "how Kean spoke this," and 'how Kemble did the other." "Comparisons," as the proverb avers," are always odious.” OLYMPIC.

A ballet-flimsy in construction, as ballets usually_are-served to display the agility of Flora Fabbri, and her husband, M. Bretin. "Follette; ou, la Reine des Feux-Follets," reveals a species of ballet mythology amusing and original enough. There is a feminine Willo'-the-Wisp, her daughter, with whom a young Jack-o'-Lantern is in love, and these various modifications of the spectral tribe of Friar Rush, personified by the choregraphic troop, elicit between them a story of which we have not the faintest idea, so shall not attempt to describe. "There is something rotten in the state of "Terpsichore's graceful art, when the public taste is obliged to content itself with the nonsense served up to it under the guise of ballets.

HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE.

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Awaiting the advent of Jenny Lind, to whom all winds and waves be propitious, so that thejoice that he has thus chosen another and a far Nightingale may wing her flight hither, with not a feather unruffled!-awaiting this, the first prima donna Mr. Lumley has given us is Mdlle. Cruvelli. Her success in Verdi's "Ernani" we briefly recorded last month; since then she has appeared in Rosina, in the everfresh" Barbiere di Siviglia," and in a new opera of Verdi's. In the latter she gave evidence of intense feeling and passion; and we look upon it that her forward career is certain, because she is not only a singer. Her acting is natural in whatever she undertakes, and her sustainment of Rosina in the "Barbière," will bear comparison with names more famous than hers yet is. Her voice is of a rich and delicious quality; she uses it with taste and feeling, and will every month acquire more and more com mand over it. Except this lady and Gardoni, there is none of the Haymarket troupe worth more than a passing mention. Balfe is at his post-indefatigable as ever.

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A change has come over the spirit of Mr. Brooke, and likewise over his acting. He has given up the stormy characters in which Kean delighted-returned to the pure ideal of actingfrom Sir Giles Overreach and King Richard III. he has risen to Hamlet. Every one who is anxious for the fame of this great actor, will rehe seemed prone to incline-one in which none higher style of character than the one to which but the wonderful genius of the elder Kean could draw the line between strong passion and all that is disgusting in overstrained rant. Therefore it is most pleasant to see Mr. Brooke again in the noble style of acting with which he first burst upon a London audience. His Hamlet is a magnificent study, after Kemble's own ideal, or at least the ideal which has descended to the new generation" with the veritable Kemble stamp. It was as pure a realization of that noblest dream of Shakspeare's genius, as ever a sympathising genius executed. We say a sympathising genius, for without such no actor could and study of years would not endow with life ever personate Hamlet; all the stage knowledge to the interest or feeling of the audience, but to a creation so purely psychological-appealing not their inmost mind and intellect. In the hands of an ordinary "player," Hamlet would be the prosiest, most sentimental moraliser that ever wearied an audience; in those of a man of genius, like Brooke, he becomes what ShakThere is positively nothing to chronicle here, spere meant him to be--the type of intellect in its the great and deserved success of the "Wife's loftiest sense; a creation sublime, unapproachSecret" having rendered the production of no- able, and alone. From the first scene to the velties quite unnecessary. The departure of the last, Mr. Brooke sustained this high ideal; Keans terminated its surprising career-and it keeping up throughout the one idea which seems might have run still longer. This success must to hang over the tragedy-that of a vengeful have been a source of equal pleasure to author, Destiny; like the Greek Eumenides-pursuing actors, manager, and public. A revived comedy him, tearing up all life's flowers before his eyes, of the old school, entitled the "Double Gallant,' even to the one frail blossom-Ophelia's loveis now underlined, and will probably have ap-goading him on, and dooming the dreamy spepeared by the time our notices-necessarily in advance-are printed. This play has been long cast aside, from its great need of excisionquery, is it good taste in Mr. Webster to revive

HAYMARKET.

culative philosopher to become the fated avenger of blood. In this the Orestes of Eschylus is the faint overshadowing of Shakspere's Hamlet. All the successive changes of mind and feeling

through which he passes-from the somewhat fantastic mourner who cradles his sorrow with a loving care, until awakened by a mission from the invisible world to meet his destiny, to the despair of one whose refuge is in the silence, the blessed "silence," which comes at lastall these are delineated by the actor with masterly skill. To describe the exquisite charm of his elocution is almost impossible; every intonation of his voice brought out some new phase of character. The divine philosophy," the sublime morality, the keen delicate satire, the deep tenderness of that noblest character poet ever drew, were never more worthily pourtrayed than by Gustavus Brooke. If Kemble's Hamlet was finer than his, it was almost above mortal man; but our faith is weak: we do not believe in Kemble-only in Brooke! Having said so much of him, we have hardly opportunity to particularize the other actors. But Hamlet is at best a grand monologue-not a play; human mind cannot conceive a reduplication of characters such as the one. Therefore, if Mrs. Brougham's Gertrude was not majestic, but coarse; if the King was intensely bad, and Ophelia Shakspere's beautiful Ophelia-was made by Miss May a mere ordinary lady," whom Hamlet would never have looked at, much less loved-it mattered little; the one genius towered above all, blinding the lesser lights as the sun shuts out the stars. The theatrical arrangements were good, with the exception of the "Ghost" scenes; when Mr. Stewart, who made a very good Ghost in all other respects, would persist in advancing to the foot-lights, and so destroying the illusion. Likewise in the scene between Hamlet and his mother, the broad glare of the lighted chamber was anything but favourable to the apparition-the Ghost looked a very portly flesh-and-blood ghost indeed. These poetical and dramatic unities ought to be observed-one likes to be thoroughly cheated, if at all. Let Mr. Spicer take a lesson in Ghosts from Phelps, whose stage spectres are quite delicious. An excellent comic actor, Mr. Lysander Thompson, was a great attraction for the last month. His Robin Roughhead is worthy of Liston. "Rob Roy" has, among other pieces, alternated on the offnights of Mr. Brooke.

LYCEUM.

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young

The "Golden Branch" is still in flower here, and most likely will keep unwithered until Easter. Various entertainments, of the light, tasteful character, which Madame Vestris so well knows how to furnish, have tempted the public to this pretty little theatre, which is always full. Mr. C. Mathews has made a good hit in the character of Larater, in a quaint, fantastic piece, founded on the extravagances of that errant genius; a capital and original, though somewhat dangerous idea. Aristophanes brought Socrates on the stage; it would be amusing to see our modern sages and great men personified in their life-time, or immediately after. "The Flight from Paris," Louis Phi

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lippe, Mr.

64 ; The Harmonious Blacksmith," Elihu Burritt, Mr. ——, would be curious announcements. Such daring stage managers would make our celebrities quake, as Aristophanes did those of Athens. Madame Vestris's bill of fare to the play-going public is generally of too light and flimsy a character to require much notice from the press; but she generally shows discretion in the arrangement of the Lyceum performances, has very tolerable actors, and her clever husband, with her everblooming self, will always attract the easilyamused public-at least that class to whom the legitimate drama is a weariness. Well, there is always consolation to the followers and appreciators of higher art, in the proverb about pearls and swine.

MARYLEBONE.

The classical drama of " Damon and Pythias" has been revived here; an experiment which does Mrs. Warner great credit. But even Banim's fine writing would fail to revive a play which has now become obsolete. Since the days when Macready and Charles Kemble acted in it together at Drury Lane, it has met with little success elsewhere. Mrs. Warner's Hermione was the only truly fine delineation; though Mr. Graham's Damon was good in its way. But somehow the public of the nineteenth century is a very warm and young-hearted public, and will not be frozen by the cold and pure dignity of the antique and classical. It must have something modern and fresh and gushing, and likes the "Lady of Lyons" and

Love's Sacrifice" far better than "Damon and Pythias," as Mrs. Warner has doubtless found out. A new actress, Miss Fanny Vining, has appeared here as Margaret, in Mr. Lovell's play; a better character for a début could hardly be found than the charming heroine of "Love's Sacrifice," which in Miss Vandenhoff's hands became so successful. Miss Vining has much talent and feeling, though she will hardly rise to the summit of her art: her best scene in the whole was the one with Lafont in its conclusion Miss Vining acted excellently. Jean Rusé was admirably done by Webb, who has a fund of drollery which is always a resource to the failing attention of the gods of Marylebone. Altogether the play was got up well. A new extravaganza,

The Enchanted Tower," is very good. Miss Saunders, as Prince Headstrong, proved herself to be a most clever little actress-rather too small for a hero, but perfectly bewitching in her naïveté and sprightliness. She will be a great favourite among the pet comediennes of the playgoing public. Miss Huddart's fine voice sustained the unimportant part she had to play; her singing of a parody on The Standard-bearer," was truly excellent. We are very glad to hear that this actress is about to change the dramatic for the operatic stage; with her rare and beautiful contralto, this is the best thing she can do. She may be a Pisaroni yet, in all but ugliness, in which latter quality that remarkable woman was

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unrivalled. Two imitations of Charles Kean any chance of success! Originality is almost impossible; and an imitation is either scouted as a contemptible ruse, or condemned as far below the model. We wonder what the Hamlet of 1899 will be!

and Macready were given by Messrs. Cooke and Webb, in a most inimitable fashion. The scenery is not remarkable for excellence, but of course Marylebone cannot cope with the resources of that first-rate theatre for extravaganza, the Haymarket. Still Mrs. Warner merits the highest praise for having, through many hazards and difficulties, steered her way in the manner she has hitherto done. The first pioneer who enters a wilderness, with his hatchet and spade, deserves more credit than the engineer who, with his two thousand labourers at his beck, follows after, to lay his line of railway.

SADLER'S WELLS.

It is rarely we have aught but praise to give Miss Addison. This last month we have great fault to find-though not so much with her as with the bad management which gave her such a part as Evadne, in the " Bridal." It is utterly unsuited to her. An actress like Laura Addison, excelling in pathos and feminine delineation of character, whose conceptions all tend less to the grand than the beautiful, is sadly out of place in a part like Evadne-which though forcible, is coarse, violent, and repulsive; it is like harnessing a graceful young courser to one of Meux's drays-a piece of positive cruelty. And this one hint we must give to Mr. Phelps, that, however attractive Miss Addison's powers may be to the Sadler's Wells audience, the continued strain upon them is rather unfair toward any actress. Woman of genius as she undoubtedly is, she is yet too young to bear without injury the incessant labour of taking character after character in the manner she does. Hardly any living actress has, at her age, gone through such a round of hard work as Laura Addison; and therefore we shall pass over in silence her Evadne, her Gertrude, in "Hamlet," and hope that the next part allotted to her will be one in which the exquisite and feminine refinement of her genius may find full play. In the "Merry Wives of Windsor," Mr. Phelps has tried a new line of character with much success. To leap at once from Hamlet to Falstaff shews considerable versatility in any actor; and to say that both were good is no mean praise. Still it is rather a pain to see one's pet idols of tragedy descend to the lower range of comedy; one does not like to laugh at Phelps, mirthprovoking as his Falstaff is. He made up for it admirably, as he always does; there is not a better dresser anywhere than Phelps, or one who is more tastefully attentive to those scenic minutiæ, which, after all, contribute no little to the illusion of the stage. Mr. Hoskins's Slender, though cast in the shade by the ever-memorable one of Charles Mathews, was by no means a bad impersonation. Miss Cooper and Mrs. Marston were an ill-contrasted pair as the "Merry Wives;" but, casting aside comparisons, were both good in their way. How hard it is for new actors to traverse Shaksperian paths with

PRINCESS'S.

Mr. Macready and Mrs. Butler have been acting together here-going through the range of their old Shaksperian parts. In some instances this evinced bad taste, inasmuch as the course of time will shew; and the Cordelia of Mrs. Frances Butler cannot be the Cordelia of young Fanny Kemble. It is no disrespect to this fine actress to advise her to remember that there is beauty in the dignity of mature years, as well as in the freshness of youth; and what painful and unnatural in a Juliet or a Desdemona, becomes magnificent in Hamlet's erring mother, or Lady Macbeth. Macready has already gathered all the laurels within his reach; he will never rise higher, but must surely remain a great actor as long as he treads the boards. This, on his own word, will not be long, as he informed a Newcastle audience lately; adding, with at least questionable taste, that his retirement would not be from age, or failing powers, but from the lamentable decline of the legitimate drama. Now, when Brooke and Phelps-we will not say Charles Kean-Mrs. Kean, Helen Faucit, Laura Addison, the Cushmans, are con tinually employed in advancing their art; when Shakspeare has been played during the past season at six London theatres, and modern dramas equal to any except the Great Dramatist are being continually brought out and appre ciated-this speech of Mr. Macready's is rather questionable. While we have writers like Marston, and Lovell, and Knowles; and actors such as Brooke, and Helen Faucit, and Phelpswe need not fear the "wolf"-cry of "the drama is declining."-D.

PANORAMA OF VIENNA.

We scarcely know any of the Exhibitions which are more thoroughly satisfactory than Mr. Burford's Panoramas. Volumes of descriptions, and folios of drawings, could never give so just a notion of an unseen locality as half an hour spent in visiting his really wonderful productions. It is long since he has presented one to the public more attractive than that of Vienna, and perhaps at a moment when the imperial city is the scene of stirring events which are to make history, it has an interest which hardly attached to it when the pencil was at work. We cannot do better than make an extract from the extremely well-written description of the View with which we were furnished; premising that the palaces, gardens, river, bridges, and monuments of many soits, stand out with such reality, that the hushed silence seems something strange, and one's cheated

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