After a residence of seven months in Italy, I am about to bid it farewell for a season. If the attractions of physical nature could command all of my attention, I might long linger to gaze upon these realms of loveliness. One might travel far over the earth before he finds a fairer clime. Here man dwells beneath an almost cloudless sky. The sun rarely hides his face in summer or winter; and when, at eventide, his golden glories fade behind the western hills, the silver stars shed a serene lustre over the blue vault of immensity. But the remembrance of the moral scenery amid which I have been moving will be more imperishably engraven on my spirit than all the brightness of the firmament, or the verdure of prairies enameled with ten thousand flowers. Amid the loveliness of nature, I found the soul of man like a wilderness. From the palace of the king to the lone cottage on the mountains, all was shrouded in spiritual darkness. Protestant and Papist looked upon each other as outcasts from the hopes of eternity, but regarded themselves as the favorites of heaven. And thus they had done from time immemorial. The changing, ephemeral sectarianism of England and America, is in many respects unlike the sturdy superstition of this country. Here, Protestantism is not the offspring of boasted modern reformation; but may fairly dispute with Rome as to which is the oldest in apostasy. Every man holds a creed which has been transmitted from sire to son for a thousand years, whether he be Protestant or Catholic; and often he will lay his hand on his heart, and swear by the faith of his forefathers, that he will live and die as they have lived and died. The Protestants from a very small minority. They have been harrassed for centuries by fierce attacks from powerful armies of Catholics. But after sanguinary persecutions, they have revived as the corn, and grown as the vine. Once, their last remnant was driven to Switzerland; but a courageous minister, assuming a military character, led them back, victoriously to their native valleys. The portrait of this hero bears the following inscription: I preach and fight--I have a double commission, and these two contests occupy my soul. Zion is now to be rebuilt, and the sword is needed as well as the trowel. The English government has several times interfered in their behalf, and large donations have been sent to them from various Protestant countries. Many a tribute of admiration has been paid them by men of ability from the leading sects of Protestantism, till their church has been flattered into immeasurable self-importance. The following hymn expresses the feelings engendered by their romantic situation: