riding over young wheat--innocent pastimes, sometimes undertaken by
young officers for mere want of some occupation.

The Temple of Diana is in the vicinity of the fountain, which has given
rise to the conjecture that it originally constituted a portion of the
ancient baths. Its shape is rectangular, and a large opening in the
centre forms the entrance.

Twelve niches, five of which open into the partition of the temple, and
two on the right and left of the entrance, are crowned by frontons
alternately circular and triangular, and are said to have contained
statues. This is one of the most picturesque ruins I ever saw. Silence
and solitude reign around it, and wild fig-trees enwreath with their
luxuriant foliage the opening made by Time, and half conceal the wounds
inflicted by barbarian hands.

I could have spent hours in this desecrated temple, pondering on the
brevity of life, as compared with its age. There is something pure and
calm in such a spot, that influences the feelings of those who pause in
it; and by reminding them of the inevitable lot of all sublunary
things, renders the cares incidental to all who breathe, less acutely
felt for the time.

Is not every ruin a history of the fate of generations, which century
after century has seen pass away?--generations of mortals like
ourselves, who have been moved by the same passions, and vexed by the
same griefs; like us, who were instinct with life and spirit, yet whose
very dust has disappeared. Nevertheless, we can yield to the futile
pleasures, or to the petty ills of life, as if their duration was to be
of long extent, unmindful that ages hence, others will visit the