“Of the surviving edifices at Rome, the principal is the Pantheon itself. It still retains its majestic portico, and presents its graceful dome uninjured; the pavement laid by Agrippa and trodden by Augustus, still forms its floor; the compartments, and fluted pillars of rich marble, that originally lined its walls, still adorn its inward circumference; the deep tints that age has thrown over it, only contribute to raise our dignity and augment our veneration; and the traveller enters its portal, through which thrice twenty generations have flowed in succession, with a mixture of awe and religious veneration. Yet the Pantheon has suffered greatly during the last eighteen centuries. The flight of steps that conducted to its threshold, the marbles that clothed it, the statues that graced its cornice, the bronze that blazed on its dome, that vaulted its portico, and formed its sculptured doors, and the silver that lined the compartments of its roof within, and dazzled the spectator with its brightness, all have disappeared.” My observations on this interesting city having extended themselves beyond my expectation, I shall decline entering into any description of the society and manners of its inhabitants, as also of the state of the arts and science of modern Rome, since these points have been so frequently and ably treated of by other authors. Having now partaken freely of the rich intellectual feast, which this venerable city affords, I prepared, in the first instance, to return to Florence, getting my passport signed for that purpose, and arranging with an intelligent friend, the Reverend ⸺ C⸺, to have the pleasure of accompanying him to that city; but the nearer the moment of our proposed departure approached, the more intense did I find an inclination to visit Naples. This disposition was confirmed by the opinion of Dr. Clarke, that the sulphurous vapour-baths of that place would be serviceable to my health, although he strictly urged me not to continue there longer than a month, in order to escape the injurious effects of the malaria arising from the Pontine marshes, which would after that time become aggravated by the heats of summer, and to which I must have been exposed on my return, in case I should take the land route through Rome; it is true they might have been avoided, by making a sea voyage to Leghorn, as I in some measure contemplated. Having thus been induced to alter my arrangements, I had my passports made out accordingly, and secured my place in a cabriolet, which was to set out on the following morning.