LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. IOI 



can never be replaced. My little boy was deprived of a relic of 

 great estimation. It consisted of a corpo santo from the catacombs, 

 and was expected to be placed in our chapel. He had received it 

 as a present from the hands of the learned and virtuous Cardinal 

 Fransoni. 



4< In most towns of Italy, a book lies on the table of the hotel, 

 for travellers to enter their names, and in it they sometimes pen 

 down a remark or two. In passing through the town of Novi, on 

 our return to England, a book of this description was presented to 

 me by the waiter. After entering our names, I gave the following 

 brief account of our recent disaster : 



" ' The Pollux, once so fine, 



No longer cleaves the wave, 

 For now she lies supine, 

 Deep in her wat'ry grave. 



" When she received her blow, 

 The captain and his mate 

 Were both asleep below, 

 Snoring in breechless state.* 



" If I the power possess'd, 



I 'd hang them by the neck, 

 As warning to the rest, 

 How they desert the deck. 



" Our treasures, and our clothes, 

 With all we had, were lost. 

 The shock that caused our woes 

 Took place on Elba's coast.' 



" Cervantes, who had studied the rise and fall of human affairs 

 in all their different bearings, exclaims on one occasion, * Thou art 

 welcome, Evil, if thou comest alone.' Had my disasters ended with 

 the shipwreck, all would have soon gone right again ; for the sooth- 

 ing hand oi time seldom or ever fails to pour balm into the wounds 

 which we are exposed to receive. But it pleased Almighty God not 

 to stay the chastising rod, so justly due to me, for my many trans- 

 gressions against His divine law. A fever attacked me, and 



* These two stanzas are a parody on a portion of Cowper's exquisite lines on 

 the Loss of the Royal George. [ED.] 



