After having shown Oswald the churches and the palaces, Corinne led him to the Villa Melini, whose lonely garden is ornamented solely by majestic trees. From thence is seen afar the chain of the Apennines, tinted by the transparent air, against which their outlines are defined most picturesquely. Oswald and Corinne rested for some time, to taste the charms of heaven and the tranquillity of nature. No one who has not dwelt in southern climes can form an idea of this stirless silence, unbroken by the lightest zephyr. The tenderest blades of herbage remain perfectly motionless; even the animals partake this noontide lassitude. You hear no hum of insects, no chirp of grasshoppers, no song of birds; nothing is agitated, all sleeps, till storm or passion waken that natural vehemence which impetuously rushes from this profound repose. The Roman garden possesses a great number of evergreens, that, during winter, add to the illusion which the mild air creates. The tufted tops of pines, so close to each other that they form a kind of plain in the air, have a charming effect from any eminence; trees of inferior stature are sheltered by this verdant arch. Only two palms are to be found in the Monks' Gardens: one is on a height; it may be seen from some distance always with pleasure. In returning towards the city, this image of a meridian more burning than that of Italy awakens a host of agreeable sensations. "Do you not find," said Corinne, "that nature here gives birth to reveries elsewhere unknown? She is as intimate with the heart of man as if the Creator made her the interpretress between his creatures and himself."--"I feel all this," replied Oswald; "yet it may be but your melting influence which renders me so susceptible. You reveal to me emotions which exterior objects may create." I lived but in my heart; you have revived my imagination. But the magic of the universe, which you teach me to appreciate, will never offer me aught lovelier than your looks, more touching than your voice."--"May the feeling I kindle in your breast to-day," said Corinne, "last as long as my life; or, at least, may my life last no longer than your love!" They finished their tour of Rome by the Villa Borghese. In no Roman palace or garden are the splendors of nature and art collected so tastefully. Every kind of tree, superb waterfalls, with an incredible blending of statues, vases, and sarcophagi, here reanimate the mythology of the land. Naiads recline beside the streams, nymphs start from thickets worthy of such guests. Tombs repose beneath Elysian shades; Esculapius stands in the centre of an island; Venus appears gliding from a bower. Ovid and Virgil might wander here, and believe themselves still in the Augustan age. The great works of sculpture, which grace this scene, give it a charm forever new. Through its trees may be descried the city, St. Peter's, the Campagna, and those long arcades, ruins of aqueducts,