A-propos to poets!—­Lady C** has just sent us tickets for Sestini’s Accademia to-morrow night.  So far from the race of Improvvisatori being extinct, or living only in the pages of Corinne, or in the memory of the Fantastici, and the Bandinelli, the Gianas, and the Corillas of other days,—­there is scarcely a small town in Italy, as I am informed, without its Improvvisatore; and I know several individuals in the higher classes of society, both here, and at Florence more particularly, who are remarkable for possessing this extraordinary talent—­though, of course, it is only exercised for the gratification of a private circle.  Of those who make a public exhibition of their powers, Sgricci and Sestini are the most celebrated—­and of these Sgricci ranks first.  I never heard him; but Signior Incoronati, who knows him well, described to me his talents and powers as almost supernatural.  A wonderful display of his art was the improvvisazione—­we have no English word for a talent which in England is unknown,—­of a regular tragedy on the Greek model, with the choruses and dialogue complete.  The subject proposed was from the story of Ulysses, which afforded him an opportunity of bringing in the whole sonorous nomenclature of the Heathen Mythology,—­which, says Forsyth, enters in the web of every improvvisatore, and assists the poet both with rhymes and ideas.  Most of the celebrated improvvisatori have been Florentines:  Sgricci is, I believe, a Neapolitan, and his rival Sestini a Roman.

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April 7.—­Any public exhibition of talent in the Fine Arts is here called an Accademia.  Sestini gave his Accademia in an anti-chamber of the Palazzo ——­, I forget its name, but it was much like all the other palaces we are accustomed to see here; exhibiting the same strange contrast of ancient taste and magnificence, with present meanness and poverty.  We were ushered into a lofty room of noble size and beautiful proportions, with its rich fresco-painted walls and ceiling faded and falling to decay; a common brick floor, and sundry window panes broken, and stuffed with paper.  The room was nearly filled by the audience, amongst whom I remarked a great number of English.  A table with writing implements, and an old shattered jingling piano, occupied one side of the apartment, and a small space was left in front for the poet.  Whilst we waited with some impatience for his appearance, several persons present walked up to the table and wrote down various subjects; which on Sestini’s coming forward, he read aloud, marking those which were distinguished by the most general applause.  This selection formed our evening’s entertainment.  A lady sat down in her bonnet and shawl to accompany him; and when fatigued, another fair musician readily supplied her place.  It is seldom that an improvvisatore attempts to recite without the assistance of music.  When Dr. Moore heard Corilla at Florence, she sung