s seen moving across the
esplanade. It was evident that the time had not yet come to Milan, all
glorious as she seemed, when men "shall learn war no more." We plunged
into a series of narrow streets, which open on the Mercato Vecchio. We
crossed the Corso, and came out upon the broad promenade that traverses
Milan from the square of the Duomo to the Porta Orientale. We soon found
ourselves at the _diligence_ office; and there, our little colony of
various nations breaking up, I bade adieu to the good vehicle which had
carried me from Turin, and took my way to the Hotel Royale, in the
Contrada dei tre Re.

At the first summons of the porter's bell the gate opened. On entering,
I found myself in what had been one of the palaces of Milan when the
city was in its best days. But the Austrian eagle had scared the native
princes and nobles of the Queen of Lombardy, who were gone, and had left
their streets to be trodden by the Croat, and their palaces to be
tenanted by the wayfarer. The buildings of the hotel formed a spacious
quadrangle, three storeys high, with a finely paved court in the centre.
I was conducted up stairs to my bed-room, which, though by no means
large, and plainly furnished, presented the luxury of extreme
cleanliness, with its beautifully polished wooden floor, and its
delicately white napery and curtains. The saloon on the ground-floor
opened sweetly into a little garden, with its fountain, its bit of
rock-work, and its gods and nymphs of stone. The apartment had a
peculiarly comfortable air at breakfast-time. The hissing urn, flanked
by the tea-caddy; the rich brown coffee, the delicious butter, and the
not less delicious bread, the produce of the plains around, not
unnaturally white, as with us, but golden, like the wheat when it waves
in the autumnal sun; and the guests, mostly English, which assembled
morning after morning,--made the return of this hour very pleasant.
Establishing myself at the Albergo Reale for this and the two following
days, I sallied out, to wander everywhere and see everything.

Milan is of ancient days; and few cities have seen greater changes of
fortune. In the reign of Diocletian and Maximilian it became the capital
of the western empire, and was filled with the temples, baths, theatres,
and other monuments which usually adorn royal cities. The tempest which
Attila, in the middle of the fifth century, conducted across the Alps,
fell upon it, and swept it away. Scarce a vestig