Virginio Ariosto left several curious memoranda of his father’s habits, which are given by Barotti. He was tall, of a robust and naturally healthy frame, and a good pedestrian. One summer’s morning he strayed out of Carpi, near Reggio, where he then resided, in his morning gown and slippers, to take a walk. Being absent in thought, he had gone more than half way to Ferrara before he recollected himself; and then continued his route, and arrived at Ferrara in the evening, having walked a distance of at least forty miles. He was generally frugal, and not choice in his meals, though at times he ate much and hurriedly, because, his son says, he was not then thinking of what he was doing, being busy in his mind about his verses or about his plans for building. One day a visiter appeared just after he had dined. While they were conversing, the servant brought up dinner for the stranger; and, as the latter was engaged in talking, Ariosto fell on the viands laid on the table, and ate all himself, the guest of course not presuming to interrupt him. After the visiter was gone, Ariosto’s brother remonstrated with him on his inhospitable behaviour, when the poet, coming to himself, exclaimed, “Well, it is his fault, after all; why did he not begin to eat his dinner at once?” The Italians have bestowed on Ariosto the epithet of “the Divine,” and they also call him “the Homer of Ferrara.” The character of Ariosto may be easily gathered from this brief sketch of his life. He was trustworthy, loyal, and sincere, free from envy or jealousy, and a warm friend; he was fond of meditation and retirement, often absent and absorbed in thought, and yet he could be very pleasant and jovial in company. He was not a great reader, and he selected the Latin classics in preference to other authors. He studied men and nature more than books. Of Greek he acquired some knowledge late in life. He was very fond of architecture, and regretted that his means did not permit him to satisfy his passion for building. He also took pleasure in gardening, but he was too absent and impatient to prosper in that occupation. His character, by his own confession, was stained by licentious amours: and his works are tainted by impure passages, which render them unfit for indiscriminate perusal. Still this is the fault of detached passages, not of the general spirit or object of his compositions; and if judged in comparison with his contemporaries, he will not be severely censured as an immoral writer.