from that through which they had hitherto generally passed. Instead of the treeless plains or unfertile deserts which they had traversed in the northern parts of Irak, they saw before them a country strongly resembling Europe; mountains, deep well-wooded valleys, or rich green plains rapidly alternating with each other, and the whole, watered by abundant streams and fountains, refreshed and delighted the eye; and he was as yet unconscious of the insalubrity of the atmosphere. Pietro, who, like Petronius, was an “elegans formarum spectator,” greatly admired the beauty and graceful figures of the women of this province,—a fact which makes strongly against the idea of its being unhealthy; for it may generally be inferred, that wherever the women are handsome the air is good. Here and there they observed, as they moved along, the ruins of castles and fortresses on the acclivities and projections of the mountains, which had formerly served as retreats to numerous chiefs who had there aimed at independence. A grotto, which they discovered in a nearly inaccessible position in the face of a mountain, was pointed out to them as the residence of a virgin of gigantic stature, who, without associates or followers, like the virago who obstructed the passage of Theseus from Trœzene to Athens, formerly ravaged and depopulated that part of the country. This and similar legends of giants, which resemble those which prevail among all rude nations, were related to our traveller, who rejected them with disdain as utterly fabulous and contemptible, though not much more so, perhaps, than some which, as a true son of the Roman church, he no doubt held in reverence. At length, after considerable fatigue, they arrived at Ferhabad, a small port built by the Shah Abbas on the Caspian Sea. Here the governor of the city, when informed of his arrival, assigned him a house in the eastern quarter of the city, the rooms of which, says Pietro, were so low, that although by no means a tall man, he could touch the ceiling with his hand. If the house, however, reminded him of the huts erected by Romulus on the Capitoline, the garden, on the other hand, was delightful, being a large space of ground thickly planted with white mulberry-trees, and lying close upon the bank of the river. Here he passed the greater portion of his time with Actius Sincerus, or Marcus Aurelius, or Ferrari’s Geographical Epitome in his hand, now offering sacrifices to the Muses, and now running over with his eye the various countries and provinces which he was proud to have travelled over. One of his favourite occupations was the putting of his own adventures into verse, under a feigned name. This he did in that _terza rima_ which Dante’s example had made respectable, but not popular, in Italy; and as he was not of the humour to hide his talent under a bushel, his brain was no sooner delivered of this conceit than he despatched it to Rome for the amusement of his friends.