fatigues of my journey:  how shall I bear to leave my new-obtained acquaintance? how shall I consent to quit this lovely city? where, from the box put into my possession by the Prince de la Cisterna, I first saw an Italian opera acted in an Italian theatre; where the wonders of Porporati’s hand shewed me that our Bartolozzi was not without a competitor; and where every pleasure which politeness can invent, and kindness can bestow, was held out for my acceptance.  Should we be seduced, however, to waste time here, we should have reason in a future day to repent our choice; like one who, enamoured of Lord Pembroke’s great hall at Wilton, should fail to afford himself leisure for looking over the better-furnished apartments.

This charming town is the salon of Italy; but it is a finely-proportioned and well-ornamented salon happily constructed to call in the fresh air at the end of every street, through which a rapid stream is directed, that ought to carry off all nuisances, which here have no apology from want of any convenience purchasable by money; and which must for that reason be the choice of inhabitants, who would perhaps be too happy, had they a natural taste for that neatness which might here be enjoyed in its purity.  The arches formed to defend passengers from the rain and sun, which here might have even serious effects from their violence, deserve much praise; while their architecture, uniting our ideas of comfort and beauty together, form a traveller’s taste, and teach him to admire that perfection, of which a miniature may certainly be found at Turin, when once a police shall be established there to prevent such places being used for the very grossest purposes, and polluted with smells that poison all one’s pleasure.

It is said, that few European palaces exceed in splendour that of Sardinia’s king; I found it very fine indeed, and the pictures dazzling.  The death of a dropsical woman well known among all our connoisseurs detained my attention longest:  the value set on it here is ten thousand pounds.  The horse cut out of a block of marble at the stairs-foot attracted me not a little; but we are told that the impression it makes will soon be effaced by the sight of greater wonders.  Mean time I go about like Stephano and his ignorant companions, who longed for all the glittering furniture of Prospero’s cell in the Tempest, while those who know the place better are vindicated in crying, “Let it alone, thou fool, it is but trash.”

Some letters from home directed me to enquire in this town for Doctor Charles Allioni, who kindly received, and permitted me to examine the rarities, of which he has a very capital collection.  His fossil fish in slate—­blue slate, are surprisingly well preserved; but there is in the world, it seems, a chrystalized trout, not flat, nor the flesh eaten away, as I understand, but round; and, as it were, cased in chrystal like our aspiques, or fruit