rock would doubtless be finer, are yet very striking in all the gorges and combes. Arrived at La Poderina, that most striking view, 7.45. Left it 7.53. We have crossed the Tressa, a rocky stream in a deep dell between noble mountains, on each side crowned with the most picturesque towns and castles. The postilion calls the river the Orcia, and I think he is right; the town is Rocca d'Orcia; it is the scene I had noticed in my former journal, and indeed it is not easy to be forgotten; but I had fancied the spot had been at Buon Convento. This stage is the only one as yet that could be called at all dull; much of it is through a low plain, without trees or vines, and therefore it is now bare; in this plain, however, there stands one of the finest of oaks by the road-side, a lonely and goodly tree, which has the plain to itself. They are also doing a very good work, in making a line of road, quite in the plain, to avoid the many ups and downs of the present road, in crossing the valleys of the small streams which run down into the main valley. But although the immediate neighborhood of the road is dull, yet how glorious are the mountains all around! Arrived at Riccorsi 9.10. Left it 9.18. I was speaking of the mountains, and I am quite sure that a scene so picturesque as that which we have just above Riccorsi, in this stage, which people who read and sleep through the country call dull, can very rarely be rivalled in England. The mountains are very high, and their sides and banks and furrowing combes, nobly spread out before you, covered mostly with oak forests, but the forest toward the plain thinning off into single trees till it gives place to the olives and vines; and near the summit there is a great scar or cliff, on which, or to which, sit or stick as they can, the houses of Campiglia, with its picturesque towers as usual. And now we are really going up to the head of the country, to the fantastic rocks of Radicofani, which turn the waters to the Ombrone and Tiber, and are visible from the Ciminian hills. Again the road itself is in the bare hill-side, with masses of rock here and there. But across the torrent, the mountain-sides are clothed more or less with trees, in some places thickly, and before us the hill-side is yellow with the still standing corn. The torrent beds, however, are here for the most part quite dry. Those creatures which dropped on our carriage yesterday are here again in great numbers; they call them Cavaletti or Grigli; they are a species of Cicada, but not those which croak on the trees, and which, I believe, are never seen on the ground. We have just crowned the

summit, and see before us the country towards Rome, and the streams going to the Tiber. The valley of the Paglia for miles lies before us. Alas! to think of that unhappy papal government, and of the degraded people subject to it. Arrived at Radicofani 10.45.

There is a good inn here, so we have stopped to get something to eat, and to give M- some rest, which she greatly needs; and from here our way is in a manner all down hill. Glorious indeed is the view all around us, and there is also a nice garden under the house, where I see an oleander in bloom, although our height above the Mediterranean must be very great, and up here the corn is not ripe. The air is pure and cool enough, as you may suppose, but there is no chill in it, and the flies are taking liberties with my face, which are disagreeable. It is very strange to see so nice looking an inn at this wild place, but the movement of the world does wonders, and it improves even the mountain of Radicofani. I have exposed myself to the attacks of those who cannot bear to hear of the movement of the nineteenth century improving anything; however, I was thinking only of physical improvement in roads and inns, which is a matter not to be disputed. But in truth the improvement does go deeper than this, and though the work is not all of God, (and did even Christianity itself except the intermeddling hand of Antichrist?) yet in itself it is of God, and its fruits are accordingly good in the main, though mixed with evil always, and though the evil sometimes be predominant: sometimes it may be alone to be found; just as in this long descent which I see before me to Ponte Centino there are portions of absolutely steep up-hill. It is a lying spirit undoubtedly that says "look backwards."

Viterbo, July 8th, 1840. - On May 9th, 1827, I entered Rome last, dearest ; and it gives me a thrill to look out from my window on the very Ciminian hills, and to know that one stage will bring us to the top of them. But the Caffé bids me stop. Left Viterbo 5.30. A clever piccolo has aided our carriage well by leading Terzo round some very sharp turnings in the narrow streets. And now we are out amidst gardens and olives, with the Ciminian hills all green with their copsewood right before us. We are now amidst the copsewood; many single chestnuts and oaks are still standing; the tufts of gum-cistus Salvianus by the road-side mingled with the broom are most beautiful. Long, white lines of cloud lie

in the plains, so that the Sabine mountains seemed to rise exactly from the sea. And now a wooded point rises above us of a very fine shape, a sort of spur from the main ridge like Swirl Edge from Helvellyn. Here the oaks and chestnuts are fine. Thick wood on both sides of the road. Again we descend gradually towards Monterossi, Soracte, and the mountains behind it finer than can be told. We may now say that we are within what was the Roman frontier in the middle of the fourth century, U.C., for we have just crossed the little stream which flows by both Sutrium and Nepete, and they were long the frontier colonies towards Etruria. Here we join the Perugia and Ancona road, and after the junction our ways seem much improved. And now we are ascending a long hill into Monterossi, which seems to stand on a sort of shoulder running down from the hills of the Lake Sabatinus towards the Campagna. I suppose that this country must have been the Teрioikis of Veii. The twenty-sixth milestone from Rome stands just at the foot of the hill going up into Monterossi. Here they are threshing their corn vigorously out in the sun; I should have thought that it must be dry enough anywhere. Arrived at Monterossi 9.30, at the twentyfifth milestone, 9.44. Here begins the Campagna, and I am glad to find that my description of it in Vol. I. is quite correct. Here are the long slopes and the sluggish streams such as I have described them, and the mountain wall almost grander than my recollection of it. And, as our common broom was tufting all the slopes and banks when I was here last in April and May, so now, in July, we have our garden broom no less beautiful. I observe that since we have joined the Perugia road, everything seems in better style, both roads and posting, because that is the great road to Bologna and Ancona, and the Sienna road leads within the Roman States to no place of consequence. Here is one of the lonely Osterie of the Campagna, but now smartened up into the Hotel des Sept Veines, Sette Vene, strange to behold. Here we found our Neapolitan friend, who, not liking his horses, had sent them back to Monterossi, and was waiting for others. The postilions would have changed them for ours, deeming our necks, I suppose, of no consequence; but our Neapolitan friend most kindly advised me not to allow them to change; a piece of disinterested, or rather self-denying consideration, for which I felt much obliged to him. Strange it is to look at these upland slopes, so fresh, so airy, so open, and to conceive

that malaria can be here. They have been planting trees here by the road-side, acacias and elms and shumacks, a nice thing to do, and perhaps also really useful, as trees might possibly lessen the malaria. We see the men who come to reap the crops in the Campagna sleeping under the shade by the road-side; we are going up the outer rim of the Baccano crater; the road is a "via cava," and the beauty of the brooms and wild figs is exquisite. Now we are in the crater, quite round, with a level bottom about one mile and a half in diameter. Arrived at Baccano 10.35. Left it 10.45. And now we are going up the inner rim of the crater, and it is an odd place to look back on. I put up Catstabber, take my pen, and look with all my eyes, for here is the top of the rim, and Rome is before us, though as yet I see it not. We have just seen it, 11.5. S. Peter's within the horizon line, the Mons Albanus, the portal into the Hernican country, Præneste Tiber, and the valley of the Anio, towards Sublaqueum. Of earthly sights τρίτον αὐτὸ Athens and Jerusalem are the other two- the three people of God's election, two for things temporal, and one for things eternal. Yet even in the things eternal they were allowed to minister. Greek cultivation and Roman polity prepared men for Christianity, as Mahometanism * can bear witness, for the East, when it abandoned Greece and Rome, could only reproduce Judaism. Mahometanism, six hundred years after Christ, justifies the wisdom of God in Judaism; proving that the Eastern man could bear nothing more perfect. Here I see perfectly the shoulder of land which joins the Alban Hills to the mountains by Præneste, and through the gap over them I see the mountains of the Volscians. A long ridge lies before us, between us and La Storta, but if we turned to the left before we ascended it, we could get down to the Tiber without a hill. And here I look upon Veii (Isola Farnese), and see distinctly the little cliff above the stream which was made available for the old walls. We are descending to the stream at Osteria del Fosso, which was one of those that flowed under the walls of Veii. And here at Osteria del Fosso we have the little cliffy banks which were so often used here for the fortifications of the ancient towns, and such as I have just seen in Veii itself. We

"The unworthy idea of Paradise" in the Koran, he used to say, "jus. tifies the ways of God in not revealing a future state earlier, since man in early ages was not fit for it."

are going up the ridge from Osteria del Fosso, and have just passed the eleventh milestone. These bare slopes overgrown with thistles and fern are very solemn, while the bright broom cheering the road banks might be an image of God's grace in the wilderness, and a type that it most cheers those who keep to the straight road of duty. Past the tenth milestone, and here, apparently with no descent to reach to, is La Storta. Arrived at La Storta 12.4. Left it 12.14. Here is a Campagna scene, on the left a lonely Osteria, and on the right one of the lonely square towers of this district, old refuges for men and cattle in the middle ages. We descend gradually; the sides of the slopes both right and left (for we are on a ridge) are prettily clothed with copsewood. I have just seen the Naples road beyond Rome, the back of the Monte Mario, the towers of the churches at the Porta del Popolo. And now, just past the fourth milestone, S. Peter's has opened from behind Monte Mario, and we go down by zig and zag towards the level of the Tiber. It brings us down into a pretty green valley watered by the Acqua Traversa, where, for the first time, we have a few vines on the slope above. The Acqua Traversa joins the Tiber above the Milvian bridge, so we cross him and go up out of this little valley on the right. And here we find the first houses which seem like the approach to a city. There are the cypresses on the Monte Mario, and here is the Tiber and the Milvian bridge. We are crossing the Tiber now, and now we are in the AGER ROMANUS. Garden walls and ordinary suburb houses line the road on both sides, but the Collis Hortulorum rises prettily on the left, with its little cliffs, its cypresses, copsewood, and broom. The Porta del Popolo is in sight, and then Passport and Dogana must be minded, so here I stop for the present, 1.20.

Rome, July 9. Again this date, my dearest one of the most solemn and interesting to me that my hand can ever write, and now even more interesting than when I saw it last.

The Pantheon I had never seen before, and I admire it greatly; its vastness, and the opening at the top which admitted the view of the cloudless sky, both struck me particularly. Of the works of art at the Vatican, I ought not to speak, but I was glad to find that I could understand the Apollo better than when I last saw it.

S. Stefano Rotondo on the Cælian, so called from its shape, consists of two rows of concentric pillars, and contains the old