The gentleman went to see an Asylum, where he found an italian woman, who had lost her mind, because her father forced her to marry a gentlemen, whom she did not love. This only instance is enough for the writer in question to say: “When we remember in what manner marriages are contracted in this country, looseness of morals in italian woman should cease to surprise us.... Her lover was a young, and melancholy creature.... The morning after she was led to the alter, she sat by her window with pale countenance, and swollen eyes, watching his coming. But, he came no more.... The night that made her a wife, made him a corpse. He had driven a stiletto through his heart.... The young bride went into a paroxysm of grief; and went raving mad.... And now for sixteen years had she lived with a dead heart in her bosom.” Many of the suicides in America are slandered by fanatics of the temperance society, as being caused by intemperance. Mr. Headley, here, satisfies himself, by venting against the unfortunate young man, these words: “to render his death still more heart-breaking, he had not left her a single line.” Such a gratuitous imputation is, indeed unkind against a man, now in his grave! Had, the writer of “Italy, and the Italians,” sounded a little more the italian heart, he might have found, that the woman, who turned insane, and the man who killed himself for love, cannot have looseness of morals. He, and she who feel love, have a heavenly mind, free from every immoral propensity; and the innocent girl in the private company of her lover, is more morally guarded, than by the most careful parent. I speak here of a lover, and not of those wretches, who dishonor love, and whose base passion renders them incapable of killing themselves for a woman. And here I may use the language of an american lady from her Alida. “I cannot despair of any one who can love--not with the temporary interest that changes its object, as whim, or accident directs; but, who, in spite of disappointment, coldness, rejection, absence, despair, still clings to her who first taught his heart to feel it.”