from Olevano to Subiaco. A
steep mile and a half up to the very crest of the mountains, and then
down some sharp corners and one or two very precipitous zigzags,
letting myself run down; the first time I have had such a sensation, a
sensation largely of fear, partly of joy: a changing view in front, on
the side--steeps of sere woods, great mountains, like jasper or some
other stone that should be veined amethyst, a smell of freshness,
whiffs of violets, at one point a small green lake deep, deep below
(Stagno di Rojate); yet an annihilation of both space and time. It was
better when Ch. Br. and I dismounted and walked down; the road cut out
of the steep wooded hills; on the shady side trickling with water and
delicious with moss, primroses, and violets among the sere chestnuts.
Here and there a cherry-tree in the valley deep below, like a little
puff of smoke. The sweetness of those mountain woods with the great
bare lilac mountains all round!

A sharp zigzag, a swish over a bridge, where as one rather felt than
saw the full green Anio dashing through rocks; and just at sunset we
came upon Subiaco--rising violet, with its great pointing castle
mound, from the green valley of water and budding poplars into a
purple and fiery sky. Then in the dusk through the little town, where
the bells were ringing.

TIVOLI, _March_ 29.

V.

ACQUA MARCIA.

I sha'n't forget, on the long bleak road from Subiaco to Vicovaro, a
violent dry wind against us, veiling all things in dust, a spring near
Spiagge: a wide runnel of water spirting out of the travertine and
running off into clear rills where the mules drink. The water they
collect up here for the Acqua Marcia, whose aqueducts we see about,
old arches and new; water, cold, infinitely pure, exquisite, one might
say almost fragrant. It was such spirts from the rock, as well as the
sight of pure mountain streams, which taught St. Francis his verse
about Suor Acqua. St. Francis must have wandered in these fastnesses
which (totally unlike the country between Segni and Olevano) are very
Umbrian in character. There is a portrait of him, said to be by a
contemporary monk, on a pilaster of one of the subterranean chapels of
the Sacro Speco above Subiaco: blond, wide-eyed, the cowl drawn over
his head.

TIVOLI, _March_ 29.

VI.

THE SACRO SPECO.

The Sacro Speco was a very charming surprise. The series of little
churches and chapels up and down flights of steps, va