appears in every Countenance of the whole People.  When I dwell upon a Note, I behold all the Men accompanying me with Heads enclining and falling of their Persons on one Side, as dying away with me.  The Women too do Justice to my Merit, and no ill-natur’d worthless Creature cries, The vain Thing, when I am rapt up in the Performance of my Part, and sensibly touched with the Effect my Voice has upon all who hear me.  I live here distinguished as one whom Nature has been liberal to in a graceful Person, an exalted Mein, and Heavenly Voice.  These Particularities in this strange Country, are Arguments for Respect and Generosity to her who is possessed of them.  The Italians see a thousand Beauties I am sensible I have no Pretence to, and abundantly make up to me the Injustice I received in my own Country, of disallowing me what I really had.  The Humour of Hissing, which you have among you, I do not know any thing of; and their Applauses are uttered in Sighs, and bearing a Part at the Cadences of Voice with the Persons who are performing.  I am often put in Mind of those complaisant Lines of my own Countryman, [1] when he is calling all his Faculties together to hear Arabella;

’Let all be hush’d, each softest Motion cease,
Be ev’ry loud tumultuous Thought at Peace;
And ev’ry ruder Gasp of Breath
Be calm, as in the Arms of Death: 
And thou, most fickle, most uneasie Part,
Thou restless Wanderer, my Heart,
Be still; gently, ah! gently leave,
Thou busie, idle Thing, to heave. 
Stir not a Pulse:  and let my Blood,
That turbulent, unruly Flood,

          Be softly staid;

Let me be all but my Attention dead.’

’The whole City of Venice is as still when I am singing, as this Polite Hearer was to Mrs. Hunt.  But when they break that Silence, did you know the Pleasure I am in, when every Man utters his Applause, by calling me aloud the Dear Creature, the Angel, the Venus; What Attitude she moves with!—­Hush, she sings again! We have no boistrous Wits who dare disturb an Audience, and break the publick Peace meerly to shew they dare.  Mr. SPECTATOR, I write this to you thus in Haste, to tell you I am so very much at ease here, that I know nothing but Joy; and I will not return, but leave you in England to hiss all Merit of your own Growth off the Stage.  I know, Sir, you were always my Admirer, and therefore I am yours, CAMILLA. [2]

  P. S. I am ten times better dressed than ever I was in England.

  Mr.  SPECTATOR,