large cities business was entirely suspended. Even his political enemies recognized his death as a national loss; while Garibaldians, burying their resentments in his newly opened sepulchre at Santena, followed silently and respectfully in the wake of his funeral car. staircase until long after the hour of midnight, of people, with every manifestation of sincere while the telegraph was busy in transmitting and profound grief, thronged the sidewalks, or the medical bulletins of the illustrious sufferer followed in the procession. The national standto the various sovereigns and cabinets of Eu-ard was draped in mourning, and in all the rope. As in life, so in death, the welfare of his beloved Italy was ever uppermost in his thoughts. In his paroxysms of delirium he discusses questions of state policy, and from time to time calls for his private secretary, with a view of dictating dispatches. To his physicians he said, "Cure me promptly; I have Italy on my shoulders, and time is precious." As the king stood by his bedside, and affectionately pressed the hand of his dying minister, he exclaimed, "Oh, sire, I have many things to communicate to you, many papers to show you, but now I am too ill." After taking leave of his friends and domestics he sank rapidly; but on his confessor coming into his chamber to administer extreme unction he aroused himself, took the padre by the hand, and said, significantly, "Libera chiesa in libero stato!"* "Our destiny, gentlemen-I declare it openThese were the last words of the dying states-ly-is to make the Eternal City, upon which man, who soon after, without further suffering, passed away, in the fifty-first year of his age, a victim of overwork and untiring devotion to his country. The sorrow occasioned by his death was universal, not only throughout Italy, but Europe. The funeral took place with more than regal pomp. In spite of the rain, which fell in torrents, as if the very elements were in sympathy with the mournful event, an immense concourse "A free church in a free state." He died early, but he lived long enough to witness the assured triumph of the policy to which he had dedicated his life and consecrated his genins. What he failed to accomplish himself, with singular prevision he clearly foreshadowed. Among the latest of his speeches delivered in Parliament was the celebrated one upon the Roman question, which, in view of transpiring events, is invested with peculiar interest. Referring to Rome as the capital of Italy, he said: twenty-five centuries, have accumulated every species of renown, the splendid capital of the kingdom of Italy. But perhaps this will not satisfy the honorable interpellant, who has asked by what means we are to attain to this desirable end. I would reply, If you will first inform me as to what will be the condition of Italy and Europe within the next six months, I will respond; but if you can not furnish me with these data-these elements of the problem I fear that neither I nor any one of the mathematicians of diplomacy will be suc cessful in finding the unknown quantity you seek." He, however, indicated some of the more rational means to be employed in the solution of this difficult question-as the establishment of a compact and powerful government at home, the modification of public opinion abroad, and the growing conviction in modern society that liberty is eminently favorable to the development of true religious sentiment. He predicted that the time would soon come when "the large majority of sincere and intelligent Catholics will recognize the fact that the august pontiff who represents the head of the Catholic religion would be able to exercise, in a manher much more free and independent, his spiritual functions, guarded by the love and respect of twentytwo millions of Italians, than defended by twenty-five thousand bayonets" of merce naries and foreigners. He subsequently added: "The moral world is subjected to laws analogous to those of the physical world. The attraction is in proportion to the mass; and by as much as Italy becomes more strong and compact, by so much will the attraction which she exercises upon Venice (and Rome) become the more powerful and irresistible." On another occasion, in a conversation related by his private secretary, he says: "Can you imagine Italy without Rome, or assign to Rome any other position than that of the capital of Italy? Do you not see that the moment has arrived for solving the question of the temporal power, which has been in all time the greatest obstacle to the realization of Italian nationality; and that the only mode of solving that question is to reassure the Catholic world as to the position that will be assigned to the papacy by a regenerated Italy?...... You say that the papacy will never abdicate. I do not demand an explicit abdication; I am content with a tacit renunciation...... When Europe is persuaded that we do not wish to inflict injury upon Catholicism, it will find it both natural TOMB OF CAVOUR. and convenient that the Italian tricolor shall wave over Rome instead of a foreign flag. The undertaking is not an easy one, but it is so much the more worthy of being accomplished. It is not in vain that Italy has waited so long in order to regain her unity and independence. The reconstruction of our nationality ought not to be barren in its results for the rest of the world. It belongs to us to put an end to the grand conflict between civilization and the church-between liberty and authority. Whatever you may say, I cherish the hope of being able to induce the more sincere Catholics and intelligent priests to agree with me. And who knows whether I may not be able from the heights of the Capitol to sign a new religious peace-a treaty which will be productive of grander results upon the future destinies of human society than the peace of Westphalia ?" He did not live to realize his splendid dream; nevertheless, the noble work goes bravely on. On the 7th of November, 1866, Victor Emanuel, to whom had been presented the iron crown that had once pressed the brows of Charlemagne, Barbarossa, and Napoleon, made his triumphal entry into Venice along the Grand Canal, with a pomp and splendor well worthy of the republic in its palmiest days; while the Italian tricolor was hoisted upon the standards of St. Mark, where once floated the triple gonfalons, amidst the shouts of the populace, the ringing of bells, and the thunder of cannon. And now follows the crowning act in the grand political drama. Almost simultaneously with the explosion of the last mine, which announced to the world the completion of that gigantic enterprise inaugurated by the great Italian statesman, the Mont Cenis Tunnel, the great bell of the Capitol sounds out an exultant peal of inarticulate joy, proclaiming the downfall of the temporal power, after twelve hundred years of papal domination; and that Rome, once the proud metropolis of the world, has again become the capital of a regenerated Italy, which, for the first time in nearly twenty centuries, is united from the Alps to the Adriatic, and from Susa to Peloro. The ashes of the illustrious sleeper in Santena's hallowed precincts must have stirred within their cerements as a Roman deputation, amidst the public rejoicings from one end of Italy to the other, crowned his tomb with an imperishable memorial, in touching recognition of a nation's gratitude for a life of toil and conflict, that has finally culminated in a nation's regeneration. CLIMA FORT CABAÑA, OPPOSITE HAVANA. LIMATE is one of the most influential | In the temperate and more favored portions among the forces which contribute to the of our earth's surface, where heat and cold aldevelopment of human nature. It would be ternate with certain regularity, there is undoubtimpossible for any race to hold out for many edly the greatest opportunity for both physical generations against the enervating influence of and mental development. How curious it is tropical sunshine or the hardening effect of frig- to watch the gradual change and relaxation of id zones, and the peoples of the earth naturally character, and the increased infusion of hot assimilate in habits and customs to the tempera- blood, as the sun rises higher and higher in ture of the outward air, which, while controlling the heavens! All the way along our Atlanthe condition of the body, shapes, to a certain tic coast this difference is visible; but so gradextent, the nature of the inward man. In the ual is the change that one is scarcely aware of frigid zones, where man's whole energy is nec-its extent, except by comparing the rugged and essary to keep the somnolent death by frost away from his physical being, great intellectual activity would be impossible; and in time even the most gifted people, doomed to exist perpetually among the ice-fields of Greenland, would descend to mere lumps of blubber, and, like the Esquimaux, seek no higher enjoyment than watching all day long by the seal-hole in the ice. intellectual character of New England with the luscious, indolent life of the southern portions of Florida and Cuba. We do not propose to discuss at length the philosophy of climatic influence. The fact, however, is certain, that climate determines, in a large measure, the habits and nature of a people; and in countries where a tropical temperature lasts during the entire year, out-door life acquires a stability and character of its own quite impossible in a land where almost every moon brings changes and different necessities. The approach to Havana from the sea has nothing about it peculiarly noticeable or attractive. If it is fair weather-and it almost always is fair weather off Havana-the placidity of the water and the delicious spiciness of the land breeze are enough to satisfy the most fastidious traveler. The entrance to Havana Harbor is narrow. On the left is the small fortress, with its light-house on a rock, known as Moro Castle, with lines of low hills surmounted by winding walls of fortifications stretching eastward. On the other hand lies the Punta Fort, and the city, with its flat roofs and blue and green and white walls glistening in the warm sunlight. On a fair, still day all the golden quality of tropical sunshine is fully realized as the vessel glides through the narrow entrance, past the heights opposite the city, crowned by Fort Cabaña, and passes up into the broad basin at the upper end of the bay. The surface of the water is placid, and reflects a peculiar whitish, glassy light, and the old, picturesque bumboats, which surround the ship as soon as she comes to her anchorage, float upon it with such languid motion as to leave no wake behind them. These bumboats are at once the convenience and pest of the stranger arriving in Havana. The water at the wharves being too shallow to admit of the approach of vessels of much draught, all steamers are compelled to anchor a long distance from shore, and the traveler is dependent upon the bumboats to effect a landing. These boats are clumsy, unsteady little things, with an awning of striped blue and white stuff extended over one end, and a large sail, which, however, often flaps loosely on the mast, and leaves the swarthy boatman, in his linen shirt and broad Panama, to propel his boat with oars as best he can. The wharf at the custom-house, the first land-picture which greets the traveler, is a true bit of the whole city. Sunny and hot, with a few half-naked negroes waiting to seize the trunks and carry them inside the building, some custom-house officers dressed in striped blue and white linen, with the invariable broadbrimmed Panama, and just outside the railing which separates the wharf from the street a few dark-eyed, sallow-faced loungers smoking and gazing idly at the new arrivals. Passing through the building one finds one's self in the square, among a crowd of street carriages, whose drivers all clamor loudly for the privilege of whirling you away through the narrow, dingy streets to your lodging. There is, perhaps, no city in the world where public carriages are cheaper and, as a general thing, more wretched than in Havana. The old volante is no longer to be found at the street stands, but has given place to the Victoria, a small two-seated affair, drawn by one horse, which unfortunate animal is generally in the last stages of his natural life. Gaunt and weak-kneed, often falling down several times in the course of a drive round the city, it looks like the most miserable specimen of horseflesh which was ever turned out to die in a wilderness. At some stands larger, four-seated carriages can be obtained, drawn generally by animals in a better state of preservation; and the horses belonging to private carriages, or specially hired from livery-stables, are many of them magnificent creatures, proud and fiery, dashing through the narrow streets with an impetuosity fatal to the feeble brother of the public carriage with whom they come in contact. The national vehicle of Cuba is the volante. Although not seen so much as formerly in the streets of Havana, it is still in favor as a private carriage; and in the country, where the roads are so bad at times as to be almost impassable, its use is almost universal. It is a curious-looking affair. The seat, broad enough for two persons, placed midway between the two immense wheels and the horse, giving a pleasant, seesawing motion to the occupant. |