than him.

When we looked out the window, on awaking, the clustered house-tops of
the city, and the summits of the mountains near were covered with snow.
But on walking to the battlements we saw that the valleys below were
green and untouched. Perugia, for its "pride of place," must endure the
storms, while the humbler villages below escape them. As the rain
continues, we have taken seats in a country diligence for Foligno and
shall depart in a few minutes.

_Dec. 28._--We left Perugia in a close but covered vehicle, and
descending the mountain, crossed the muddy and rapid Tiber in the
valley below. All day we rode slowly among the hills; where the ascent
was steep, two or four large oxen were hitched before the horses. I saw
little of the scenery, for our Italian companions would not bear the
windows open. Once, when we stopped, I got out and found we were in the
region of snow, at the foot of a stormy peak, which towered sublimely
above. At dusk, we entered Foligno, and were driven to the "Croce
Bianca"--glad to be thirty miles further on our way to Rome.

After some discussion with a vetturino, who was to leave next morning,
we made a contract with him for the remainder of the journey, for the
rain, which fell in torrents, forbade all thought of pedestrianism. At
five o'clock we rattled out of the gate, and drove by the waning moon
and morning starlight, down the vale of the Clitumnus. As the dawn stole
on, I watched eagerly the features of the scene. Instead of a narrow
glen, as my fancy had pictured, we were in a valley, several miles
broad, covered with rich orchards and fertile fields. A glorious range
of mountains bordered it on the north, looking like Alps in their winter
garments. A rosy flush stole over the snow, which kindled with the
growing morn, till they shone like clouds that float in the sunrise. The
Clitumnus, beside us, was the purest of streams. The heavy rains which
had fallen, had not soiled in the least its limpid crystal.

When it grew light enough, I looked at our companions for the three
days' journey. The two other inside seats were occupied by a tradesman
of Trieste, with his wife and child; an old soldier, and a young dragoon
going to visit his parents after seven years' absence, occupied the
front part. Persons traveling together in a carriage are not long in
becoming acquainted--close companionship soon breeds familiarity. Before
night, I had made a fast friend of the young soldier, l