en step breathing immediate
fragrance from the crushed sweets of thyme, and marjoram, and winter
savoury: while the birds and the butterflies frolick around, and flutter
among the loaded lemon, and orange, and olive trees, till imagination is
fatigued with following the charms that surround one.

I am come home this moment from a long but not tedious walk, among the
crags of this glorious mountain; the base of which nearly reaches,
within half a mile perhaps, to the territories of Lucca. Some country
girls passed me with baskets of fruit, chickens, &c. on their heads. I
addressed them as natives of the last-named place, saying I knew them to
be such by their dress and air; one of them instantly replied, "_Oh si,
siamo Lucchesi, noi altri; gia si puo vedere subito una Reppubblicana, e
credo bene ch'ella fe n' e accorta benissimo che siamo del paese della
liberta_[AA]."

[Footnote AA: Oh yes, we are Lucca people sure enough, and I am
persuaded that you soon saw in our faces that we come from a land of
liberty.]

I will add that these females wear no ornaments at all; are always proud
and gay, and sometimes a little fancy too. The Tuscan damsels, loaded
with gold and pearls, have a less assured look, and appear disconcerted
when in company with their freer neighbours--Let them tell why.

Mean time my fairy dream of fantastic delight seems fading away apace.
Mr. Piozzi has been ill, and of a putrid complaint in his throat, which
above all things I should dread in this hot climate. This accident,
assisted by other concurring circumstances, has convinced me that we are
not shut up in measureless content as Shakespeare calls it, even under
St. Julian's Hill: for here was no help to be got in the first place,
except the useless conversation of a medical gentleman whose accent and
language might have pleased a disengaged mind, but had little chance to
tranquilize an affrighted one. What is worse, here was no rest to be
had, for the multitudes of vermin up stairs and below. When we first
hired the house, I remember my maid jumping up on one of the kitchen
chairs while a ragged lad cleared _that_ apartment for her of scorpions
to the number of seventeen. But now the biters and stingers drive me
_quite wild_, because one must keep the windows open for air, and a sick
man can enjoy none of that, being closed up in the Zanzariere, and
obliged to respire the same breath over and over again; which, with a
sore throat and fever, is