n the broad, blue expanse of the Tyrrhene Sea.

When we emerged from the cool alleys of Rome, and began to climb up and
down the long, barren swells, the sun beat down on us with an almost
summer heat. On crossing a ridge near Castel Guido, we took our last
look of Rome, and saw from the other side the sunshine lying like a
dazzling belt on the far Mediterranean. The country is one of the most
wretched that can be imagined. Miles and miles of uncultivated land,
with scarcely a single habitation, extend on either side of the road,
and the few shepherds who watch their flocks in the marshy hollows, look
wild and savage enough for any kind of crime. It made me shudder to see
every face bearing such a villainous stamp.

_Civita Vecchia, Jan. 1._--We left Palo just after sunrise, and walked
in the cool of the morning beside the blue Mediterranean. On the right,
the low outposts of the Appenines rose, bleak and brown, the narrow
plain between them and the shore resembling a desert, so destitute was
it of the signs of civilized life. A low, white cloud that hung over the
sea, afar off, showed us the locality of Sardinia, though the land was
not visible. The sun shone down warmly, and with the blue sky and bluer
sea we could easily have imagined a milder season. The barren scenery
took a new interest in my eyes, when I remembered that I was spending
amidst it that birth-day which removes me, in the eyes of the world,
from dependant youth to responsible manhood.

In the afternoon we found a beautiful cove in a curve of the shore, and
went to bathe in the cold surf. It was very refreshing, but not quite
equal to the sulphur-bath on the road to Tivoli. The mountains now ran
closer to the sea, and the road was bordered with thickets of myrtle. I
stopped often to beat my staff into the bushes, and inhale the fragrance
that arose from their crushed leaves. The hills were covered with this
poetical shrub, and any acre of the ground would make the fortune of a
florist at home.

The sun was sinking in a sky of orange and rose, as Civita Vecchia came
in sight on a long headland before us. Beyond the sea stretched the dim
hills of Corsica. We walked nearly an hour in the clear moonlight, by
the sounding shore, before the gate of the city was reached. We have
found a tolerable inn, and are now enjoying the pleasures of supper and
rest.

_Marseilles, Jan. 16._--At length we tread the shore of France--of sunny
Provence--the last unvisit