them, than of utility. At certain distances, there are poles to direct the road, and small hovels designed either as resting places upon the ascent, or to afford immediate shelter from the severity of the weather. Close to the convent are the mansions for the dead, where lie exposed to view, without order, and (on account of the coldness of the atmosphere) without decay, the dead bodies of those unfortunate travellers who have perished in this ungenial climate.

"In this desert spot, in this centre, as it were, of the boisterous elements and the wreck of worlds, secluded from the whole earth, but not from their God, live, and live happily, (if internal merit has its recompense) these hospitable anchorites, The sun, it is true, scarcely ever warms them with its rays, nor does the western breeze waft upon its wings the blessings of the milder climates; but, in exchange, they enjoy that serenity of mind, which contentment only can afford, and which actions like theirs are particularly calculated to produce, It must, indeed, be a most interesting sight to witness the humanity of these good monks during the season when this passage into Italy is most frequented; to observe with what readiness and alacrity they receive all travellers; how they chafe, rub, and warm those who stand in need of their medical assistance, and by means of warm soups, and wholesome aliments (for spirituous liquors are thought pernicious), restore strength and spirits to the more robust, whom the keenness of the air, or over fatigue, have rendered incapable of prosecuting their journey. All nations, all religions, have an equal claim to their compassion; they are the good Samaritans, whose universal benevolence is restrained by no contracted prejudice. All ranks and denominations of men are relieved by them; and though there is, perhaps, some slight deference paid to the outward appearance of their guests, some more decent chamber, or more delicate food, allotted to the rich than to the poor; yet the same attentions extend invariably to both, and the same means are employed for their comfort or recovery.

"But it is not when the passage is open, that the zeal and

vigilance of these good religionists are most conspicuous, and that their humane endeavours merit our warmest admiration; during this season, they do no more than you or any other charitably-disposed person might, and, I hope, would be disposed to do in similar situations. But it is in winter, rather at the approach of spring, that they subject themselves to the greatest dangers. From the month of November to the month of May, not a day passes, but, accompanied with their servants, and two or three great dogs* of the Newfoundland species, they expose themselves to all the inclemencies of the weather, in order to meet and conduct the wandering tra veller to the convent. Through the thickest fogs, and frequently across enormous drifts of snow, they resolutely accomplish their generous purposes, conducting, and often carrying upon their shoulders, those unhappy wretches, whom the violence of the cold, or over fatigue, has bereft either of the use of limbs, or deprived of their faculties; frequently they are reluctantly obliged to make use of violence, and are forced to rub, shake, and even to beat the unhappy sufferers, in order to rouse them from that lethargic stupor, which is invariably the forerunner of a frozen death.

"Great care is taken, at the same time, lest the good friars' themselves, while thus attentively occupied, do not, in their turn, suffer the very calamity they are thus humanely endeavouring to avert from others. For in winter the cold is so dreadfully intense in these upper regions, that to continue without motion in the open air, during the space even of a few minutes, is sufficient to bring on the first symptoms of congelation; and as nothing but constant exercise is able to prevent the stagnation of the blood, they are forced unremittingly to strike their hands and feet against the long poles which they carry with them, in order to promote the circulation, In a word, so great is their merit, and so almost more

* The sagacity of these animals in the discovery of the bodies buried under the snow, and in finding out the safest road, is so very extraordinary, that it seems as if Providence had gifted them for the preservation of mankind,

than human their efforts of courage and resolution in the promotion of this melancholy but generous duty, that all that has been said, or could be spoken in their praise, must, and does, fall far short of their great merit."

FEMALE MENTOR, No. 38.

No. CXLI.

Quid faciam Romæ ?

JUVENAL.

What business have I in Rome ?

Sir,

I SUCCEEDED, in my twenty-third year, to a small paternal estate, in a remote corner of the kingdom, where I have since passed forty years, without finding any of them hang heavy on my hands; and which I, last spring, reluctantly quitted to spend a few days in town, where my presence was rendered necessary by a law-suit, the decision of which was of great importance to my family. I will not deny but the first fortnight passed off tolerably well; I felt myself agreeably entertained at the places of public festivity, and enjoyed a still higher pleasure in the society of two or three old acquaintance, with whom I talked over our school-boy tricks, and Oxford schemes, with a degree of pleasure, which, perhaps, we never experienced from the actual execution of either. Short, however, was the time, during which any thing could render a life of irregularity, noise, and hurry, tolerable

to one, who had passed forty years in the enjoyment of tranquillity, health, and leisure.

The late hours which even the most orderly families were obliged to keep, the strange mixture of modern society, where they are all acquaintance and no friends, and the general dissipation of all ranks, together with some untoward accidents which protracted my law-suit far beyond the expected time, made me so completely disgusted with London, that, for the last week, I never closed my eyes without mentally exclaiming, "Oh rus, quando te aspi

ciam!"

One day, as I was returning from Westminster-hall, inwardly fretting at the chicane of law, and good-naturedly giving all its professors to the devil, I was struck with the title of your Paper, which cut a most conspicuous figure, as it lay in the window of your publisher, Mr. Egerton, at White-hall.

As I had been all my life a kind of loiterer, and was then more particularly one, I immediately purchased all the numbers, and have regularly taken it in ever since. I will not hurt your modesty by expatiating on the pleasure I received from your publication in general, and shall only observe, that I was more particularly pleased with the history of your corre