here, as
our evil destinies will have it, a company of strolling actors had
taken possession of the best quarters before our arrival; and our
accommodations are, I must confess, tolerably bad.

When we left Perugia this morning, the city, throned upon its lofty
eminence, with its craggy rocks, its tremendous fortifications, and
its massy gateways, had an imposing effect. Forwards, we looked over a
valley, which so resembled a lake, the hills projecting above the
glittering white vapour having the appearance of islands scattered
over its surface, that at the first glance I was positively deceived;
and all my topographical knowledge, which I had conned on the map the
night before, completely put to the rout. As the day advanced, this
white mist sank gradually to the earth, like a veil dropped from the
form of a beautiful woman, and nature stood disclosed in all her
loveliness.

Trevi, on its steep and craggy hill, detached from the chain of
mountains, looked beautiful as we gazed up at it, with its buildings
mingled with rocks and olives--

I had written thus far, when we were all obliged to decamp in haste to
our respective bed-rooms; as it is found necessary to convert our
salon into a dormitory. I know I shall be tired, and very tired
to-morrow,--therefore add a few words in pencil, before the
impressions now fresh on my mind are obscured.

After Trevi came the Clitumnus with its little fairy temple; and we
left the carriage to view it from below, and drink of the classic
stream. The temple (now a chapel) is not much in itself, and was voted
in bad taste by some of our party. To me the tiny fane, the glassy
river, more pure and limpid than any fabled or famous fountain of old,
the beautiful hills, the sunshine, and the associations connected with
the whole scene, were enchanting; and I could not at the moment
descend to architectural criticism.

The road to Spoleto was a succession of olive grounds, vineyards, and
rich woods. The vines with their skeleton boughs looked wintry and
miserable; but the olives, now in full fruit and foliage, intermixed
with the cypress, the ilex, the cork tree, and the pine, clothed the
landscape with a many-tinted robe of verdure.

While sitting in the open carriage at Spoleto, waiting for horses, I
saw one of that magnificent breed of "milk white steers," for which
the banks of the Clitumnus have been famed from all antiquity, led
past me gaily decorated, to be baited on a plain