nation. I have mentioned that we ascended a hill: this was composed of arable land, the fields, unbroken by tree or rock, spread round in smooth upland; but in the midst we found the chasm, the fissure, the rent I mentioned, and we descended, as it were, down into the bosom of the earth—and deeper, deeper, till the wooded hills close round and almost shut out the sky, and a brawling stream, which turns a mill, frets its way between rocks clothed by trees, that nearly meet on either side. Nothing can be more peaceful, more secluded, more shut in; and if not wildly sublime, yet rock and wood and torrent combined to render it picturesque; a rustic bridge crossed the stream, and there, abutting against the hill side, stood the mill, and before the mill a large pleasant room for the reception of guests, for many come, especially on feast days, to dine here. Here our friend had betaken him to compose his opera. Beside the dashing waterfalls, beneath the music-giving pines; and in grassy nooks shaded by mossy rocks and tree-grown precipices, he found a spot whose breath was melody, whose aspect imparted peace. Earth had opened, and this little ravine was a very nest adorned by nature’s hand with her choicest gifts. When we arrived he was absent; he had gone with his note-book to study among the pines. You know and admire his compositions. Thanks
