LETTER XXIII.

MR. GRAY TO HIS MOTHER.

Bologna, Dec.

9,

N.S. 1739.

UR journey hither has taken up much less time than I expected. We left Genoa (a charming place, and one that deferved a

longer ftay,) the week before laft; croffed

the mountains, and lay that night at Tortona, the next at St. Giovanni, and the morning after came to Piacenza. That city (though the capital of a Duchy) made fo frippery an appearance, that instead of spending fome days there, as had been intended, we only dined, and went on to Parma; ftayed there all the following day, which was paffed in vifiting the famous works of Correggio in the Dome, and other churches. The fine gallery of pictures,

that once belonged to the Dukes of Parma, is no more the King of Naples has carried it all thither, and

here;

the city had not merit enough to detain us any longer, so we proceeded through Reggio to Modena; this, though the refidence of its Duke, is an ill-built melancholy place, all of brick, as are most of the towns in this part of Lombardy: He himself lives in a private manner, with very little appearance of a court about him; he has one of the nobleft collections of paintings in the world, which entertained us extremely well the rest of that day and a part of the next; and in the afternoon we came to Bologna. So now you may wish us joy of being in the dominions of his Holiness. This is a populous city, and of great extent: All the streets have porticoes on both fides, such as surround a part of Covent Garden, a great relief in fummer-time in such a climate; and from one of the principal gates to a church of the Virgin, [where is a wonder-working picture, at three miles distance,] runs a corridor of the fame fort, lately finished, and indeed a most extraordinary performance. The churches here are more remarkable for their paintings than architecture, being mostly old ftructures of brick; but the palaces are numerous, and fine enough to supply us

with somewhat worth feeing from morning till night. The country of Lombardy, hitherto, is one of the most beautiful imaginable; the roads broad, and exactly straight, and on either hand vast plantations of trees, chiefly mulberries and olives, and not a tree without a vine twining about it, and spreading among its branches. This scene, indeed, which must be the most lovely in the world during the proper season, is at present all deformed by the winter, which here is rigorous enough for the time it lafts; but one ftill fees the skeleton of a charming place, and reaps the benefit of its product, for the fruits and provifions are admirable ; in short, you find every thing that luxury can defire in perfection. We have now been here a week, and shall stay some little time longer. We are at the foot of the Apennine mountains; it will take up three days to cross them, and then we shall come to Florence, where we shall pafs the Christmas. Till then we must remain in a ftate of ignorance as to what is doing in England, for our letters are to meet us there: If I do not find four or five from you alone, I shall wonder.

LETTER XXIV.

MR. GRAY TO HIS MOTHER.

Florence, Dec. 19, N. S. 1739.

E fpent twelve days at Bologna, chiefly (as moft travellers do) in seeing fights; for as we knew no mortal there, and as it is no

eafy matter to get admiffion into any Italian

house, without very particular recommendations, we could fee no company but in public places; and there are none in that city but the churches. We faw, therefore, churches, palaces, and pictures from morning to night; and the 15th of this month fet out for Florence, and began to cross the Apennine mountains; we travelled among and upon them all that day, and, as it was but indifferent weather, were commonly in the middle of thick clouds, that utterly deprived us of a fight of their beauties: For this vaft chain of hills has its beauties, and all the

valleys are cultivated; even the mountains themselves are many of them fo within a little of their very tops. They are not so horrid as the Alps, though pretty near as high; and the whole road is admirably well kept, and paved throughout, which is a length of fourscore miles, and more : We left the Pope's dominions, and lay that night in those of the Grand Duke at Fiorenzuola, a paltry little town, at the foot of Mount Giogo, which is the highest of them all. Next morning we went up it; the post-house is upon its very top, and usually involved in clouds, or half-buried in the fnow. Indeed there was none of the laft at the time we were there, but it was ftill a difmal habitation. descent is most exceffively fteep, and the turnings very fhort and frequent; however, we performed it without any danger, and in coming down could dimly discover Florence, and the beautiful plain about it, through the mists, but enough to convince us, it must be one of the nobleft prospects upon earth in fummer. That afternoon we got thither; and Mr. Mann, the refident, had sent his fervant to meet us at the gates, and conduct us to his house. He

The