of high places.  They majestically presided over the surrounding country, as religious ideas over all other thoughts.  They inspired more enthusiasm for nature, by announcing the Deity from which she emanates, and the eternal gratitude of successive generations towards her.  The landscape, from whatever point of view considered, formed a picture with the temple, which was placed there as the centre and the ornament of the whole.  Ruins spread a singular charm over the campagna of Italy.  They do not recall, like modern edifices, the labour and the presence of man; they are confounded with nature and the trees; they seem in harmony with the solitary torrent; they present the image of time, which has made them what they are.  The most beautiful countries in the world, when they bring to mind no recollection, when they bear the stamp of no remarkable event, are stripped of interest when compared with historical countries.  What place in Italy could be more suitable for the habitation of Corinne than the retreat consecrated to the sybil, to the memory of a woman, animated by divine inspiration.  The house of Corinne was delightful; it was ornamented with the elegance of modern taste, and yet discovered the charm of an imagination enamoured of the beauties of antiquity; happiness, in the most elevated sense of the word, seemed to reign there; a felicity which consisted in all that ennobles the soul, excites thought, and vivifies talent.

In walking with Corinne, Oswald perceived that the wind possessed an harmonious sound, and filled the air with chords, which seemed to proceed from the waving of the flowers, and the rustling of the trees, and to give a voice to nature.  Corinne told him that the wind produced this harmony from the aeolian harps, which she had placed in grottoes to fill the air with sound, as well as perfumes.  In this delicious abode, Oswald was inspired with the purest sentiment.—­“Hear me,” said he to Corinne; “till this moment I felt the happiness I derived from your society blended with remorse; but now I say to myself, that you are sent by my father to terminate my sufferings upon this earth.  It is he that I had offended; but it is, nevertheless, he who has obtained by his prayers my pardon in heaven.  Corinne!” cried he, throwing himself upon his knees, “I am pardoned; I feel it in this sweet calm of innocence which pervades my soul.  Thou canst now, without apprehension, unite thyself to me, nor fear that fate opposes our union.”—­“Well,” said Corinne, “let us continue to enjoy this peace of the heart which is granted us.  Let us not meddle with destiny:  she inspires so much dread when we wish to interfere with her, when we try to obtain from her more than she will give!  Since we are now happy, let us not desire a change!”

[Illustration:  Corinne showing Oswald her pictures.]