he banks was a white villa,--the remains
of that noble setting of palaces which adorned the Po when the House of
D'Este vied in wealth and splendour with the larger courts of Europe.
Prisoners must have breakfast; and I found a poor cafe in the little
village, where I got a cup of coffee and an egg,--the latter unboiled,
by the way; and discussed my meal in presence of the gendarme, who sat
opposite me.

Toward noon the messenger returned, and to my joy brought back the papal
permission to enter "the States." Light and short as my constraint had
been, it was sufficient to make me feel what a magic influence is in
liberty. I could again go whither I would; and the poor village of Ponte
Lagoscuro, and even the faces of the two officials, assumed a kindlier
aspect. Bidding these last, whose Italian urbanity had won upon me,
adieu, I started on foot for Ferrara, which lay on the plain some five
miles in advance. The road thither was a magnificent one; but I learned
afterwards that I had Napoleon to thank for it; but alas, what a picture
the country presented! The water was allowed to stagnate along the path,
and a thick, green scurf had gathered upon it. The rich black soil was
covered with weeds, and the few houses I saw were mere hovels. The sun
shone brilliantly, however, and strove to gild this scene of neglect and
wretchedness. The day was the 28th of October, and the heat was that of
a choice summer day in Scotland, with a much balmier air. I hurried on
along the deserted road, and soon, on emerging from a wood, sighted the
town of Ferrara, which stretched along the plain in a low line of
roofs, with a few towers breaking the uniformity. Presenting my "pass"
to the sentinel at the barrier, I entered the city in which Calvin had
found an asylum and Tasso a prison.

Poor fallen Ferrara! Commerce, learning, the arts, religion, had by
turns shed a glory upon it. Now all is over; and where the "Queen of the
Po" had been, there sits on the darkened plain a poor city, mouldering
into dust, with the silence of a sepulchre around it. I entered the
suburbs, but sound of human voice there was none; not a single human
being could I see. It might be ages since these streets were trodden,
for aught that appeared. The doors were closed, and the windows were
stanchioned with iron. In many cases there was neither door nor window;
but the house stood open to receive the wind or rain, the fowls of
heaven, or the dogs of the city, if an