country_." But any reply serves any common Italian, who is little
disposed to investigate matters; and if you tease him with too much
ratiocination, is apt to cry out, "_Cosa serve sosistieare cosi? ci farà
andare tutti matti_[V]." They have indeed so many external amusements in
the mere face of the country, that one is better inclined to pardon
_them_, than one would be to forgive inhabitants of less happy climates,
should they suffer _their_ intellectual powers to pine for want of
exercise, not food: for here is enough to think upon, God knows, were
they disposed so to employ their time; where one may justly affirm that,

[Footnote V: What signifies all this minuteness of inquiry?--it will
drive us mad.]

On every thorn delightful wisdom grows,
And in each rill, some sweet instruction flows;
But some untaught o'erhear the murmuring rill,
In spite of sacred leisure--blockheads still.

The road from Padua hither is not a good one; but so adorned, one cares
not much whether it is good or no: so sweetly are the mulberry-trees
planted on each side, with vines richly festooning up and down them, as
if for the decoration of a dance at the opera. One really expects the
flower-girls with baskets, or garlands, and scarcely can persuade one's
self that all is real.

Never sure was any thing more rejoicing to the heart, than this lovely
season in this lovely country. The city of Ferrara too is a fine one;
Ferrara _la civile_, the Italians call it, but it seems rather to merit
the epithet _solenne_; so stately are its buildings, so wide and uniform
its streets. My pen was just upon the point of praising its cleanliness