ir own crude notions
of propriety and reason. If the powers of man were equal to analyzing
the nature of the Deity, to comprehending His being, and power, and
motives, there would be some little show of sense in thus setting up the
pretence of satisfying our judgments in all things, before we yield our
credence to a religious system. But the first step we take brings with
it the instructive lesson of our incapacity, and teaches the wholesome
lesson of humility. From arrogantly claiming a right to worship a deity
we comprehend, we soon come to feel that the impenetrable veil that is
cast around the Godhead is an indispensable condition of our faith,
reverence, and submission, A being that can be comprehended is not a
being to be worshipped.

In this book, there is an attempt to set these conflicting tendencies in
a full but amicable contrast to each other, We believe there is nothing
in the design opposed to probability; and it seems to us, that the
amiable tenderness of a confiding but just-viewing female heart might,
under the circumstances, be expected to manifest the mingled weakness
and strength that it has here been our aim to portray.

We acknowledge a strong paternal feeling in behalf of this book, placing
it very high in the estimate of its merits, as compared with other books
from the same pen: a species of commendation that need wound no man.
Perhaps some knowledge of Italian character is necessary to enjoy the
_vice-governatore_ (veechy-gov-er-na-_to_-re), and the _podesta_; but we
confess they have given us, in reading over these pages for the first
time since they were written, quite as much amusement as if they were
altogether from an unknown hand.

As for the Mediterranean, that unrivalled sea, its pictures always
afford us delight. The hue of the water; the delicious and voluptuous
calm; the breathings of the storm from the Alps and Apennines; the noble
mountain-sides basking in the light of the region or shrouded in mists
that increase their grandeur; the picturesque craft; the islands, bays,
rocks, volcanoes, and the thousand objects of art, contribute to render
it the centre of all that is delightful and soothing to both the mind
and the senses.

The reader will recollect the painful history of Caraccioli. We have
taken some liberties with his private history, admitting frankly that we
have no other authority for them than that which we share in common with
all writers of romance. The grand-daught