I have, on a former occasion, attempted to explain what were the peculiarities of situation which gave effect to the Roman buildings. They occupied in many instances points of land advancing into the general line of the valley of the Tiber. The spectator was in the centre, the objects were round him. In Athens it was exactly the reverse; the objects were grouped together on a hill in the centre, which displayed its magnificence on every side. At Rome, the beholder was dazzled by the multiplicity of objects. At Athens he was impressed by their simplicity and unity, for, from every point of view, the public edifices which crowded the summit, and were disposed on the slopes of the Acropolis, would combine to form a single whole. In both nature and art seemed to have united to produce an harmonious effect, and even in the style of architecture, the richness and grandeur of the Roman, and the grace and elegance of the Athenian, seem alike suited to the disposition of the buildings, and the stations they occupied. It is remarkable, that both these cities should have been so admirably placed. Paris hardly offers a single marked situation; Naples would have been better, had some of its principal edifices occupied the Chiatamone; Milan is on a flat; Florence merely in a fine valley. London would be preferable to any of these for the display of architecture, but we have taken no advantage of the steep bank rising from the Thames, which, though rather too low, would nevertheless afford admirable situations for public buildings. The present circumstances of Athens and Rome are no less strikingly opposed to each other than the situation and style of architecture. Rome is adorned, and frequently incumbered with modern magnificence; the Athenian ruins are either insulated or surrounded by mere huts. At Rome the buildings are numerous, and very much decayed; at Athens they are few, and much more perfect. Indeed, the mere lapse of time seems to have had very little effect on those of the latter city. Earthquakes have shaken, explosions have shattered, and avarice has despoiled them, but a great deal of what remains, remains absolutely perfect, except in the more delicate and exposed sculpture, and even of the sculpture a considerable portion is as fresh as if it were only just finished. The modern manners of Greece and Italy have introduced a style of domestic architecture in the two cities completely different. In one country each family inhabits a story, or perhaps only a suite of apartments, and many families live consequently under the same roof. In the other, such a system would be profanation: each family occupies its own little house, shut out from the rest of the world by being placed in a court, and instead of six or seven stories, as in Italy, we here rarely find more than two. Nature seems to delight in adding to these contrasts. At Rome the atmosphere is remarkably quiet; at Athens the winds are frequent and impetuous. At Rome, on the contrary, the