country, and yet very modest and unassuming with regard to his individual qualifications, circumstances, and rank. And here is a mistake which foreigners are apt to fall into. The reserve of the English, which often proceeds from modesty and diffidence, is construed into supercilious pride. I have said that there is a fund of pride in the English character, quite distinct from their national vanity; but this individual pride is, generally speaking, a reasonable and not an offensive one; it is the natural dignity and self-respect of man; it is neither haughty nor overbearing; nay, it is often allied to diffidence. A young Englishman, accustomed to check, in the company of ladies, any ebullition of too great freedom or obstreperous mirth, is introduced abroad to society in which a tone of familiarity prevails, bordering upon what he considers as impropriety; he is silent, bashful, and perplexed, they think him proud. He is unwilling to speak foreign languages, of which he believes he has attained but an imperfect knowledge and pronunciation; this is also ascribed to pride. The strongly marked gradations which exist in his country between the different classes, and which are the result of wealth and education, render him shy of new acquaintances; he finds himself abroad in parties where persons from almost every rank mix familiarly together; his aristocratic feelings (don't be surprised at the word, Giulio, for there is more aristocracy in England than in Italy, although better distributed) revolt against the contamination; in this he is perhaps proud, although in his own country his feelings would be no more than proper and just, because in unison with the rules of society and the established order of things. This is the way in which men misunderstand and misjudge each other.

And now, brighten up your countenance, for I pass on to a subject which should sound like music to your Italian ears. You naturally expect that I should tell you something about the ladies of this country. You know that I have ever been an enthusiastic admirer of female beauty, and, above all, of feminine grace. But there is a peculiar sort of female countenance, the sight of which has the power of rivetting my whole attention, of engrossing all my faculties, and on which I could gaze for hours together without growing tired, and without experiencing any other sensation but that of calm delight, and pure disinterested admiration. My taste in this particular is different from yours, and from that of most of our friends. It is not founded upon any peculiar style of countenance, any cast of features; but in a certain expression of the face, and of the whole person, which it is impossible for me to describe; I could only point to it and say, Ecce! It is not the full proud beauty we have admired together in the

respect, treating us all as so many herds of slaves and beggars ; all these, and similar notions, which are manifested daily and in a thousand ways, become at times really disgusting. A man does not like to be continually reminded of his inferiority; although he may feel willing to bow to superior merit, he likes to do it spontaneously, and not to be forced into it. It is this weak side of the English that has created them hosts of enemies on the continent. It is a lamentable instance of the system of moral compensation that this nation, so truly estimable and great, should, in this particular, be deficient in tact and liberality. I know that this prejudice is, in some degree, akin to a sentiment of patriotism, which has enabled this country to perform wonders; I know that the failing itself is not allied to any malignant feeling, and I willingly overlook it; but I can easily understand how, in other breasts, it has created sentiments of dislike, and even hatred. This affords, perhaps, an explanation of a singular phenomenon, which has often struck me both here and abroad, viz., the little attachment and gratitude that many foreigners feel for this country, even after they have been benefited by it. L'Angleterre n'a fait que des ingrats, is a saying that I have often heard repeated; and the truth of which I have been obliged to acknowledge with grief. Man cannot brook contempt; he could sometimes endure more easily the wounds inflicted on his own personal self-love, than tamely submit to hear the country of his birth under-rated and abused. As I have already observed, this disposition of the English to look down upon foreign nations is more national than personal, the very people who indulge most in it will show kindness to the individual stranger; but it sometimes happens that their kindness falls upon an ulcerated heart, and its milk turns to gall. There are, it is true, many Englishmen, who, by means of a liberal education, and by the experience acquired in their travels, have risen above this excessive national prejudice; yet, generally speaking, I am afraid that contempt for the rest of the world is but too much an habitual sentiment of this people. I have observed, and examined, and doubted; and yet I must come to this painful conclusion. You will ask me, how this sentiment is manifested? In different ways according to the difference of education and disposition. The lower classes show it often coarsely, and without disguise; the lower ranks of the middling class by their manner and looks; travellers and other writers by their journals and dissertations; and in persons of good breeding it often peeps out from under a veil of constrained politeness, very different from the manner in which they address one of their own countrymen.

An Englishman may be obviously vain of belonging to this

country, and yet very modest and unassuming with regard to his individual qualifications, circumstances, and rank. And here is a mistake which foreigners are apt to fall into. The reserve of the English, which often proceeds from modesty and diffidence, is construed into supercilious pride. I have said that there is a fund of pride in the English character, quite distinct from their national vanity; but this individual pride is, generally speaking, a reasonable and not an offensive one; it is the natural dignity and self-respect of man; it is neither haughty nor overbearing; nay, it is often allied to diffidence. A young Englishman, accustomed to check, in the company of ladies, any ebullition of too great freedom or obstreperous mirth, is introduced abroad to society in which a tone of familiarity prevails, bordering upon what he considers as impropriety; he is silent, bashful, and perplexed, they think him proud. He is unwilling to speak foreign languages, of which he believes he has attained but an imperfect knowledge and pronunciation; this is also ascribed to pride. The strongly marked gradations which exist in his country between the different classes, and which are the result of wealth and education, render him shy of new acquaintances; he finds himself abroad in parties where persons from almost every rank mix familiarly together; his aristocratic feelings (don't be surprised at the word, Giulio, for there is more aristocracy in England than in Italy, although better distributed) revolt against the contamination; in this he is perhaps proud, although in his own country his feelings would be no more than proper and just, because in unison with the rules of society and the established order of things. This is the way in which men misunderstand and misjudge each other.

And now, brighten up your countenance, for I pass on to a subject which should sound like music to your Italian ears. You naturally expect that I should tell you something about the ladies of this country. You know that I have ever been an enthusiastic admirer of female beauty, and, above all, of feminine grace. But there is a peculiar sort of female countenance, the sight of which has the power of rivetting my whole attention, of engrossing all my faculties, and on which I could gaze for hours together without growing tired, and without experiencing any other sensation but that of calm delight, and pure disinterested admiration. My taste in this particular is different from yours, and from that of most of our friends. It is not founded upon any peculiar style of countenance, any cast of features; but in a certain expression of the face, and of the whole person, which it is impossible for me to describe; I could only point to it and say, Ecce! It is not the full proud beauty we have admired together in the

southern regions of our Peninsula, conscious of her charms and sure of her power; nor the aërial romantic fair who seems to rise above the soil she treads upon; but the mild, pensive, kind daughter of earth, who neither commands nor repels admiration; whose looks show her to be a genuine woman, sharing in the excellencies and weaknesses of her sex. Countenances of this sort I have met with in the northern parts of Italy, and especially in Piedmont; I have encountered them under the arcades of Strada Po, and at the theatres of Turin. Some of my friends thought them plain and deficient in expression; they preferred the regular beauties of Rome and Naples: but I felt in looking at the eyes and mouths of the former as if I could hold dumb converse with them,-as if we understood one common language. Ma, you will say, a che proposito, all this rhapsody? Why, to tell you that I have met with more countenances of my favourite description in this country than in any other; that I have feasted my eyes upon them; that I could have followed the fair unknown beings for miles out of my way, by the mere power of attraction, and without any object in view, (you know this is a common practice with your idle Italian sparks,) but that I have learnt better manners since my return to England, and I am become almost as sedate and as sober-looking as any of the natives.

The English ladies are generally tall in their persons, and well proportioned; their figures are good, their complexions remarkably fine. All this you know, as you have seen numbers of them abroad; but what you don't know is, that although there is not among them a great proportion of what your connoisseurs call first-style beauties, yet I have hardly met with an ugly woman in England; and this to me is far more satisfactory than having to encounter the sight of fifty furies, for one single Venus, which is the case in the streets of Naples.

When I left the Continent I had my ears stunned with exclamations against the want of taste and grace of the English travelling females, and I had myself seen some specimens which seemed to warrant this reproach; yet since my arrival here I have quite abjured this prejudice. I find in the dress of English ladies a most exquisite cleanliness and neatness, which is unparalleled in any other country; a display of costliness without profusion. The materials are the best of their kind; if there is any defect in their arrangement it is in the taste of the ornamental accessories, but in this also they have wonderfully improved of late, without adopting the gaudiness of the French. I am not sufficiently a connoisseur in these matters to enter into particulars, but I can tell you that almost every woman you see, even in the streets, is well

dressed; that the effect their appearance produces on a stranger is that of wonder and delight; it carries with it the idea of wealth and comfort, equally remote from prodigality as from parsimony. Their carriage is more dignified than graceful; many of them have adopted in walking a sort of military step, which, although unfeminine, is not without its advantages, as it enables their male companions to keep pace with them with great ease.

I have nowhere been more forcibly struck with the power of the female mind than in this country. An Englishwoman seems conscious that she is destined to be the partner and companion of man, and not his tyrant nor his victim. This is as it ought to be; woman is essentially equal to man; she is calculated to shine in her own peculiar sphere, where she is as much superior to man, as man is superior to her in other particulars. The women of this country seem to feel this, and to derive from the conviction a sentiment of independence and dignity which entitles them to respect. There is, however, much feminine softness in the character of Englishwomen; not that morbid sensibility of the girls of some other countries, or the heedless passion of our southern fair, but what is less fascinating though much more valuable, there is a great fund of affection, benevolence, and candour. They seem little acquainted with our susceptibilities of love; they feel, perhaps, less exquisitely its pangs and raptures; they little understand the science of looks and the mysterious sympathies of the tender passion, which an Italian girl seems to know by instinct. There appears at first sight to be little imagination or enthusiasm in the character of an Englishwoman; if you speak to her passionately upon any subject her countenance varies but little; she listens with great composure and placidity; she seldom replies with an equal animation; and she appears even less affected than she really is. Every thing seems calm and benignant about the young women of this country; yet, I believe them susceptible of strong and lasting affections. To a native of the south they exhibit a new book to study in the science of the heart; a fairly written volume in which there is much to pique and interest his curiosity. On trying occasions, Englishwomen are capable of great energy. I have myself been surprised at their presence of mind, and quickness of perception and determination in particular instances; and this I attribute to their habit of reasoning and of controlling their ideas, and restraining their imagination. Their education, generally speaking, I consider as excellent; it does not qualify them to shine and to dazzle, but to observe and appreciate justly, to be happy in their domestic