We need not weary our readers by minute descriptions of the palace, which, upon near approach, hardly realises the imposing effect of its site. The rugged and broken ground on which it stands has, in a great degree, marred that unity of plan which is essential to architectural grandeur and harmony, augmenting at the same time the difficulties of construction. Notwithstanding this drawback, and the rambling character which a portion of the building has consequently taken, there is much beauty in the façade of the great court, and in the unfinished elevation towards the cathedral, although the brickwork is but partially cased with stone. Barbaro, in his commentary upon Vitruvius, cites the grand stair as a model of beauty and convenience, and the corridors of the principal story (enriched, since 1756, with the museum of antique sculpture and inscriptions collected by Raffaele Fabretti) are truly magnificent. From these open many splendid rooms, among which is the great hall, about one hundred and twenty feet in length, of noble proportions, and severe in a simplicity contrasting with the chromatic decorations usual in Italy. In its elevated niches were formerly placed the insignia of its lords and of their allies, but of these none remain save the winged lion of St. Mark, which still looks proudly down upon the deserted audience-chamber, where its envoys used to be deferentially received by those long-departed dukes who often bore its banner to victory. The next story, which from its ornaments and devices appears to have been finished by Duke Guidobaldo II., is the summer residence of the cardinal-legate of Urbino and Pesaro, and, consequently, is seldom shown. Each of the towers seen in the engraving, and considered by Passavant as antecedent to Duke Federigo, contains a spiral staircase of curious construction, leading to balconies whence may be enjoyed a most characteristic prospect of the surrounding country, wherein "Hills are not seen, but for the vales betwixt The deep indentings." Fatigued by its uptossed and almost barren undulations, the eye turns for repose to the magnificent sierra, which bounds the horizon. On the extreme left is Monte Catria, crowned by the convent of S. Albertino, 5600 feet above the sea. Then comes Monte del Cavallo, described by Cimarelli as the most beautiful of all the Apennine chain, and named from the horses of famous race bred by the later princes of Urbino, on the luxuriant pastures of its gentle slopes and verdant meadows. Monte Nerone, so called from an "Unwritten story fondly traced From sire to son,"