roasted wild boar lay before me! Silently sighing at the approaching labour, I instinctively, but unconsciously, put my hand to my stomach, as an act of defence and pity, but my host, unfortunately perceiving and misinterpreting my gesture into one of pleasure, exclaimed: "Ah! how glad I am that I happened to have the cinghiale to-day; I will give you a good slice of it," and suiting the action to the word, he plunged in his knife and fork, and before I could recover my astonishment, a plate was before me, with a portion of the animal which would have sufficed the combined appetites of six Germans at a Jagdschmaus. All excuse, apology, and entreaty to be relieved of a forty-ninth part of it were in vain; and though in eating the fiftieth, I did contrive to offer up a tribute to my host's feelings and hospitality, it was one of the strongest appeals to self-sacrifice ever made by a victimised stomach.' —Vol. i. p. 195.

Our traveller visited the town of Sassari during the celebration of Easter. Processions constantly paraded the streets. Troops, with their arms reversed, marched along to the sound of muffled drums, followed by crowds of children intended to represent angels, while a group of men, dressed after the fashion of ancient times, preceded the image of Christ, which was borne in a coffin beneath a black pall and canopy. Such processions were constantly to be met in the streets. About mid-day on the Saturday, the whole town broke out into an uproar. All the bells in all the churches were rung; every one ceased from his occupation to contribute to the clamour. The workmen, with hammers, chisels, and trowels, maintained an incessant clatter, every stick and stone was put into requisition, the bones of Judas were rattled, fire-works exploded, drums beaten, while there was not a door in the city that was not violently slammed. The elevation of the Host in the Cathedral proclaimed the moment when the resurrection took place at Calvary.

Sassari is a handsome town, embellished with several fine buildings, but its chief beauty consists in its situation, about half way up a broad slope of land, covered with orange groves, and diversified with pretty villas, and magnificent pleasure-grounds and gardens; with the almond, the cherry, the orange, and the pomegranate tree, were interspersed the majestic Roman pine and palm; while superb myrtles spread their fragrant foliage to rest upon the orange trees. Beds of roses, densely planted, produced a brilliant effect. Every kind of cultivation is carried on with success on the slopes of this fertile valley, tobacco, especially, being produced in abundance.

From Sassari our traveller made a rapid advance across a country alternately desolate and cultivated. Here the road lay through a smiling and abundant plain, alive with a busy population, and now over a wild tract, where the cork, the olive, and

the pear tree flourished in wild magnificence, while the profuse growth of asphodel and other meadow plants betokened a marshy and undrained soil. The villages passed through were of various appearance some neat and clean, others comfortless and filthy, composed of mere hovels, scarcely sufficient to screen their inmates from wind and rain. Yet the evidences of industry were everywhere visible, and weaving and spinning machines were seldom wanting in the dirtiest hut.

Traversing the district between Bulgi and the Goghinas, and crossing the river by means of a horse-boat, our traveller entered the province of Gallura, of whose history he affords us an interesting sketch, which tends, however, to increase the bulk of the work, without, in our opinion, increasing the reader's pleasure in its perusal. We are not disposed, however, to quarrel with an author's manner of constructing his book, and few will, perhaps, object to the slight résumé which is given of the part which Gallura has played in the history of Sardinia. An amusing account is afforded us of a Royal Grammatogjiu, which is too long to extract, otherwise we should be glad to present it to our readers. We travel on to Tempio, and find a state of society far from civilized. In illustration of this, we may mention the frequency of assassination, an instance of which is related by Mr. Tyndalle :

AR

The expression of a private soldier in England, that he had leased his life for twenty years to be shot at for a shilling a day, conveys some idea of part of the life of the late governor. It was said that he had compromised himself in his office, by tampering with certain parties then at enmity with each other, and a complaint was preferred against him; to stifle which, he endeavoured to seize and imprison the assailant. series of acts of injustice and retaliation followed, and at length the governor received one of the death-warnings peculiar to Sardinia. During the night he heard a pane of glass crack, and on examining it in the morning he found the fatal bullet on the floor. The custom of the country is, that whenever vendetta all a morte revenge even to death, is to be carried out, the party avenging shall give his adversary timely notice, by throwing a bullet into his window, that he may either make immediate compensation for the injury, or prepare himself for death. The governor for once used every caution as to when and where he went, but at length disregarded the warning, imagining he was safe. But the assassin had watched him with an eagle's eye, and he fell in a moment he least expected.'—Ib. p. 296.

The people of this district are a sharp, intelligent race. They are strong, athletic, and hardy, industrious, and honest, yet often addicted to vice. The foundling hospital at Tempio is described by our author as a very dog-kennel for its uncleanly and offensive condition, and he draws a striking comparison between it and the institution at Moscow, where the Czar has set a good example

in this respect to his illustrious cousin. A wild and bleak country extended round Tempio, and every spot available had been drawn into cultivation. Numerous springs, streams, and fountains, made little oases of verdure on the slopes of the hills, contrasting beautifully with the cold, rough grey granite around. But leaving Tempio for Castel Doria, the traveller immediately found himself amidst very different scenery. The path wound over lofty hills, covered with cistus, arbutus, laurel, and myrtle, imparting a lovely softness to the landscape, and flinging forth clouds of delicious perfume, which rose and dispersed itself over the hills. Thence, turning again towards the Goghinas, he penetrated through deep gorges and dells, descending steep declivities, clothed with ilex, cork, and olive, which reared an arch of foliage across the beaten path. Castel Doria, now in ruins, was a splendid stronghold in its time, and surrounded as it is by scenery no less wild and romantic than itself, falls in admirably with the landscape.

The forest of Cinca Ďenti, or the "five teeth," contains, according to Sarde calculations, upwards of a hundred millions of trees and shrubs. Its foliage is so dense, that in some places the rays of the sun never pierce through the impenetrable canopy; and so close is the undergrowth, that in several parts it has never been explored. Its wild recesses afford hiding-places for numerous banditti. Indeed, the whole district is inhabited by a tribe known as the Agiese, whose lawless and ferocious character leads them to plunder the surrounding population, and forbids them to seek a livelihood by honest and patient industry. However, there exist among them certain notions of honour and chivalry. They will not attack a stranger in their country, unless he be well armed and guarded, for they consider it cowardly to assail the weak. An instance of this is related. Two communities were at enmity. A member of a neutral tribe was riding through the forest of Fiveteeth, when he was met and recognised by six of the fuoroscite, who rode up to him, and declared their intention of protecting him until he had passed out of their country. Surprised and alarmed, he had no resource but to submit, and accordingly journeyed on with his wild companions, slowly and cautiously, through a succession of defiles, to which he was a stranger, until emerging upon an open glade, they halted, and commenced a whispered conversation, which left no doubt in the traveller's mind that he was to be murdered and robbed in that lonely place, without the hope of rescue. He knew that the

district he should have to pass through was hostile to the tribe to which his escort belonged, and was much surprised when he found himself proceeding again across the country which swarmed with the enemies of his protectors. Yet the banditti guard was

not assailed. When, however, after having changed his escort, he was again safe on neutral ground, he learned that the laws of hospitality required that the two communities should join in protecting a stranger passing through their territory, but that, this act accomplished, hostilities would recommence, and the men who had courteously and fearlessly come into the presence of their enemies, would again be found in arms, prepared to devastate and plunder the country, through which they had just ridden in peace.

Traversing a district where the air was literally heavy with the perfume of the cistus, and the ground white with its delicate blossoms, penetrating through dense oak and cork forests, and passing over a mountainous region, scantily peopled, Mr. Tyndalle arrived at a little spot called St. Maria di Santa Arsadona, where numerous streamlets flowing down the hill slopes, a thick wood in the back-ground, a shepherd's hut, rudely constructed, but snug and picturesquely built, overhanging a deep glen, and a group of happy people engaged in light and pleasant occupations, made up an interesting and pretty picture. The graceful dress of the women appeared to much advantage in this simple, but beautiful spot, and their hospitality impressed our traveller with a favourable idea of their character.

After visiting Terranova, Mr. Tyndalle proceeds to describe Tavolara, an island composed of one immense calcareous rock, the flat surfaces or table-lands of which have given it its name. Picturesque with gorges and chines, it has also several secure little roadsteads, much esteemed and frequented by naviga

tors:

A shepherd and his family, of most primeval and unsophisticated habits, have for many years been the sole inhabitants of the island. On the late arrival of the King at Terranova, he sent a quantity of sheep and the wild goats with which the island abounds, as a present to his Majesty, thinking he might be in want of such things for his itinerant larder. Offered in perfect simplicity and innocency, the king thanked him, with an assurance, that if he had wanted them, he would willingly have accepted them, and subsequently sent to know if he wished for anything, with the promise to grant it, if rational, and in his power. The shepherd pondered for a long while on all his real and imaginary wants he went through, in his family conclave, a long list of household articles, the whole cost of which would not have amounted to twenty shillings, and finally decided against them as unnecessary luxuries. After further deliberation, his mighty mind was made up, and he replied that he was not in want of anything, but he should not mind if the king gave him a pound of gunpowder. On the royal messenger therefore suggesting that he should ask for something else, the dilemma was greater than ever, but after strolling about and torturing his imagination for several minutes, he suddenly broke out:-"Oh, tell the

King of Terra-firma that I should like to be King of Tavolara; and that if any people come to live in this island, that they must obey me as the people obey him in Terra-firma.”—Vol. ii. p. 19.

If the shepherd was not actually created King of Tavolara, he was accorded several privileges which were nearly tantamount.

A country luxuriantly forested, and famous for its wealth in honey and cork, was now traversed, the lower range of the Monte Nieddu was crossed, and a descent made to the village of Monti, an assemblage of wretched houses, the abode of squalidness and poverty, ignorance and idleness, in a word, of misery in all its repulsive forms. Thence, amongst lofty hills, through crowded valleys, inhabited by a superstitious and thrifty race, and among pretty villages and isolated hamlets, the traveller proceeded, occasionally visiting the ancient Noraghe, often mingling among the population, and constantly observing the national manners and characteristics. Too frequently was his attention attracted by a filthy and miserable village, situated upon the slope of a lovely hill, amid the most luxuriant verdure and the sweetest flowers, a blotch upon the fair scenery. At length the Goceano range was entered. These mountains, covered with woods, peopled by a race of nomade shepherds, and swarming with cattle, the wealth of these tribes, afford some of the most picturesque landscapes in Sardinia. One hundred thousand animals, of whom a fourth are pigs, are reared in the forests, and the acorns, chesnuts, and wild pears which abound, form a fattening food. Ascending to the summit of the range, and commencing the descent on the other side, Mr. Tyndalle at once perceived a change in the aspect of the scenery, which ceases to be of the forest character, and assumes that of a succession of arable lands, meadows, corn-fields, vineyards, and gardens. The slopes of the mountains were not uninterrupted, but were broken into low ridges and shallow valleys, which, since the period of Carthaginian power, have been coveted for their fertility and abundance. Our author takes this occasion to enter into general observations on the agriculture of Sardinia, observations which we cannot here condense, but which will be perused with much interest by the reader of the work.

We cannot pause to describe, with Mr. Tyndalle, the Monte de Sarcorsa, the villages on the Ozieri plain, Ardasa, the Noraghe de Tres Noraghe, visited and explored by our author, the mineral springs of San Martino, nor the forests, the monasteries, nor the villages of the Campo Lagano. Neither can we do more than mention his account of the numerous antiquities he saw, nor of the banditti, and the ceremonies of peace-making, nor of the people and the towns of the district through which he passed until he arrived in the Barbagia province, where again he