"I am not one of those," returned Mr. Morland, "who deem it necessary to give a reason for every thing; and of all hypotheses, those which account for the various workings of the imagination are to me especially unsatisfactory. That a peculiar temperament is required for poetry, no one will deny; but what produces that temperament?—scenery and circumstances certainly do not. I, for one, am content to leave the question with the longitude and the philosopher's stone."
"The poetical habits of a people do not lead to their producing great poets, else those among the Italians of the present day would be the first in the world. Their country is unrivalled in its loveliness—all their old associations are of the refined and elevated order—their taste for music is as exquisite as their taste for painting. Objects of beauty are constantly before them, for the picture or statue gallery is open to all—their churches are the noblest monuments of human power—the common wants of life are easily supplied—and then their indolent summer habits are so favourable to the train of imaginary creations. I have seen an Italian peasant, seated, perhaps, by one of the ruined fountains, half ivy, half water—or be-
