form of Mount Etna, the ascent of which had long been one of the most ardent of our youthful aspirations. The day was cloudless, and we kept our eyes constantly fixed on the mighty mass, from whose summit volumes of smoke rolled from time to time, light and fleecy, into the clear blue sky. The sides of the mountain, embrowned and blackened by the lava of different centuries, told more clearly than map or chronicle could have done, the awful history of the mighty convulsions that have spread terror into the hearts of thousands. There are, perhaps, few things in nature calculated to awaken in the mind more profound and varied emotions than the sight of a volcano in a southern climate. At its base, fertility crowns the light labours of the husbandman; corn and fruits and flowers shed their varied perfumes and colours over the land; the blue sea lies like a glorious mirror below it, and wafts its refreshing breeze, strengthening the labourer in the morning as he goes forth to his daily toil, and refreshing him after the burning heat of the noontide sun and the labours of his calling are past. Anon, as at Vesuvius, the traveller is soon awakened to the sublime dangers which lurk amid the smiling scene; a few steps bring him to the city of the dead, warning the inhabitants of the fearful scene which may again make their resting-place a mark of awe and wonder for succeeding centuries. As we ascend, the last trace of vegetation disappears; the lava, of different colours, presents a scene of desolation, which fills the heart of him who beholds it for the first time with oppressive wonder. Above, the mysterious orifice, which, after slumbering for centuries, suddenly, and with a noise louder than man's weak artillery can produce, suddenly bursts into full activity, and columns of fire tower in the air, rivers of liquid fire indent the soil. A few hundred paces below, the landscape smiles in all its wonted loveliness, and men pursue their labours, as if this miracle of nature did not concern them.

Such is the aspect of a smaller volcano, like Vesuvius. Its base is crowded with cities and villages, the population of which cannot be much less than half a million, some of which rest upon the hardened ruins of their predecessors; but the noise and bustle which attend the out-of-door life of the Neapolitan, proclaims so loudly the activity of man, that but little time is left for meditations, which require solitude and silence. Far different are the feelings inspired by a view of Ætna. As the traveller lands at Catania, the lofty mountain towers above, and the most careless spectator is impressed with the conviction, that upon Mongibello (as the Sicilians call it) depends the fate of the inhabitants of the surrounding country. Thirteen hours are required to reach its summit: in the course of his ascent the traveller passes, as it were, through the torrid, temperate, and frigid zones; dark, waving lines of lava still show the track pursued by the destructive element two hundred years ago, overwhelming towns and villages in its resistless course, and rushing into the sea, leaving the once famous port of Catania accessible only to smaller vessels. In the immediate vicin

VOL. II.

H

ity of Catania, vast blocks of lava, as black as pitch, although such a length of time has elapsed, stand awful chroniclers of the sad event. After passing Nicolosi, the last inhabited place, the signs of tropical vegetation disappear; the traveller rides over an ascending plain of sultry ashes; and after entering the woody region, soon emerges into the masses of bare lava above. The sides of the mountain are studded with eighty minor volcanoes, some of which have their own names, and in Italy yield in size to Vesuvius alone. They are connected by internal communications; and it was from a twin volcano of this description, (I Monti Rossi,) the Red Mountains, that the eruption burst forth, which, in the latter half of the seventeenth century, destroyed the city of Catania. Such are some of the features that distinguish this vast mountain, whose summit, shrouded in perpetual snow, crowns the prospect now before the reader, and formed the background of the stage of the theatre of Taormina.

This city, the ancient Tauromenium, now a poor town of 5 or 6000 inhabitants, is often mentioned by historians as rich and flourishing. Like the river Tauromenium, (now the Alcantara,) it derived its name from Mount Tarus, on which it was built. Amidst the conflicting accounts respecting its foundation, it seems certain that it was a colony, or place of refuge for the inhabitants of the neighbouring city of Naxos. Like the rest of the islands, it suffered at times considerably from different tyrants and oppressions, until it enjoyed a greater degree of tranquillity under the Roman rulers, subject, of course, to the exactions of the governors, of whom the notorious proprietor, Verres, has been handed down to posterity in the glowing eloquence of Cicero. The principal deity worshipped by the ancient Tauromenians was Apollo, likewise the national god of the Naxians, although coins in honour of Bacchus, Minerva, and Jupiter have likewise been found here. In later times, the city was conquered from the Saracens by King Roger.

The situation of Taormina is one of the most magnificent in all Sicily; and even when seen at a disadvantage, immediately after the traveller has enjoyed the sublime spectacle which the view from the summit of Mount Etna affords, and when the mind is still too much agitated to be suspectible of minor impressions, the varied charms of the scene will recur in after times, and raise up feelings in which delight and regret equally predominate. As the spectator sits on the stone benches of the theatre, so picturesque in its decay, on his right the ruined castle of the Saracens crowns the lofty hills, Etna lends its magic influence to the scenic effect, whilst below the sloping hill, cool with verdant green, yet studded here and there with white edifices, standing out in almost dazzling brightness, curves gracefully to the blue sea, whose murmuring shore is diversified with grotesque rocks of lava; beyond this the eye rests upon the line of Calabrian hills. From Taormina to Messina, the road leads through an earthly paradise, so rich and varied are the beauties which nature has here bestowed in lavish profusion.

The form of the theatre is semicircular, the style Corinthian. The scena has three entrances from the proscenium, the space between which was occupied by niches. Underneath the two former runs a subterranean passage, the purpose of which has not been clearly ascertained. The whole building was faced with marble, and rich in columns and ornaments, many of which were dug up in the years 1748 and 1749. The old Saracenic castle commands a still more extensive prospect. The church of St. Pancratius is manifestly the cell of an ancient Greek temple, the walls of which are still extant. Near this are the fragments of an aqueduct, and of a temple, supposed to have been sacred to Apollo. In the cloister of the Dominicans, which likewise commands a most beautiful view, strangers who are provided with letters of recommendation are hospitably received.

BEETHOVEN.

THE four great heroes of German music are Handel, Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. The first will descend to posterity as one of the most glorious masters of the art, maintaining his exalted position with equal majesty; and many of his pieces will probably suffer but little from the changing modes of the science, and will in future centuries excite in the minds of the religious and the thoughtful, the same delightful emotions which rise before the mental eye at the present day in our own country, the classic land for the performance of Handel's music. When any of our tuneful English vocalists have, on the continent, sung his admirable sacred songs, they have been received with an enthusisam which we have seldom seen equalled; and we must consider it, in some measure, as a reproach to the German taste, that so few opportunities are, in that music-loving country, afforded to the lover of Handel of hearing his inimitable oratorios.

Haydn's simple and lovely melodies, although occasionally apparently forgotten, will from time to time act with refreshing coolness whenever a healthy reaction shall take place, and the overwhelming, deafening music of some of the more recent fashionable composers shall have palled upon the ear, and called forth a longing for the more simple expression of natural feeling. Mozart still keeps his due place with undiminished fame

The fourth, and in the opinion of many, the most sublime of this great company, Beethoven, was pre-eminently distinguished by analytic genius. He roamed at will through the realms of harmony, and seemed at first to be playfully in search of that high ideal, which alone could embody and realize the lofty thoughts with which his mind was pregnant. Wayward his themes sometimes appear to the mere casual