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PREPARE TO LEAVE ROME.

sengers, to remind us that we are not at home, and to warn us to prepare for death. When sickness shakes the body, the enfeebled mind is frequently incapable of reflecting on its better interests; therefore, the time of health and strength should be used for this important purpose. May the Lord give us grace to ponder these things in our hearts, while it is called to-day, for soon the night cometh, when no man can work.

LETTER XXXIX.

Rome, November 1, 1821.,

DR. Clarke thinks that my sister's life almost depends upon her leaving Rome, with as much expedition as possible. We are now busied in making preparations for our departure: but are not yet determined where to fix our winter residence. Our inclination is homewards, but my sister is not in a state of health to bear a long journey; her frame is much shaken by her severe trials;-besides that, the season is now so far advanced, that it would be very hazardous. Florence or Pisa, I think, will be as great a distance as we can venture: having spent a winter at the latter place, she seems to prefer it.

Monday, November 12. We paid a last visit to the tombs of Anny and her father; and while our tears dropped on the senseless stones, which cover

their mortal remains, we tried to look upwards to the eternal mansion, where dwell their glorified spirits; and to say with thankful hearts, "the Lord hath done all things well:" but nature often rises against that better feeling, and stirs up painful thoughts. Must we leave them behind? Must we go our weary way, without the society of those whose presence cheered us, wheresoever we journeyed; and in whose absence the hours seemed to drag on so tediously? Oh, may a double portion of faith be granted to sustain the sinking heart, and to prop the feeble frame in this last sore trial. May not those celestial spirits now be among the number of hovering angels, which encamp round about them who fear the Lord, to deliver them? But let me not attempt to fathom the deep things of God.

Baccano, November 13. This morning we began our melancholy journey, casting many a longing, lingering look behind, as the domes and towering monuments of Rome receded from our eyes. We crossed Ponte Molle, and bid adieu to the Tiber. Painful retrospection brought back to my remembrance, as I passed Monte Mario, the evening when I ascended it with Anny at my side; while, as she picked up the petrified sea-shells, which lie scattered over it, she remarked how curious it was that these specimens should be found in such abundance so many miles from the sea.

At this inn, where we have stopped to dine, all has an appearance of wretchedness, dirt, and mi

288 BACCANO THE UNHEALTHINESS OF IT.

sery; the air is pestilential, and every face which we see is pale and squalid. The waiter who attended us at dinner was unable to stand; and he, as he sat down behind us, excused himself, saying, "Ah, Signora, è gran bestia la febbre." He had been suffering with malaria fever for weeks, and was now reduced to such a state of weakness that he could scarcely crawl, yet was he obliged to exert himself to wait on crowds of travellers, who now throng every inn on this road.

Baccano has long been a prey to fever, and no one can sleep here, but at the hazard of their lives. I told you two years ago of the death of our friend Dr. Slaney. It was this place which was fatal to him. He was warned, before he left Rome, to travel all the night rather than stop at Baccano. He neglected the warning: slept here, caught the fever, as did one of his servants; and they both died of it when they reached Florence.

Nepi, Tuesday evening. With some difficulty we obtained admittance at the only inn which this place affords. The rooms are all occupied except one; but we preferred lodging even in that one, to running the risk of proceeding another stage in the dark. There are two cold damp-looking beds in the room, for our whole party. We have no fireplace, and sit shivering with cold. I feel very much alarmed on my sister's account, who has still all the delicate appearance of an invalid: however, we have warmed her bed, and made her as com

PICTURESQUE SCENERY.

289

fortable as circumstances would admit. Just as she was settled in it, I heard a gentle knock at the door, and opening it, gave admittance to two nice girls, who said, that they brought an offer of their room, from their papa and brother, as it had a fire-place, and was, in other respects, preferable to ours; and that having heard that one of our party was an invalid, they had taken the liberty of intruding, in the hope that they might be of some service. We were pleased to receive this proof of kind-heartedness from our own country-people.

Narni, Wednesday. We arose this morning at six o'clock, and resumed our journey. The sun rose in splendid magnificence, spreading its glorious radiance over an enchanting country. "All thy works praise thee, O God :" and let not the sorrow which has filled our hearts prevent us from joining the universal chorus.-Who, more than we, have reason to praise Thee?

From Civita Castellana to Borghetto the scenery around is lovely, but unenlivened by human habitation. Here we once more crossed the Tiber, but did not lose sight of it, for still it winds its muddy way through many a devious turn in the picturesque scenery, now diversified by hamlets, which crown the brows of the hills and the tops of the rocks. One of these, most remarkable for the romantic beauty of the situation, is Otricoli.

I am now seated near a comfortable fire, which, though not lighted when we arrived, was soon in a

290

BRIDGE OF NARNI.

blaze; and, while dinner is preparing, I have occupied myself in writing the above. This inn is tolerably good; from the window we have an enchanting prospect. After dinner we are to proceed to Terni, where we shall sleep.

Terni, 9 o'Clock at Night. I have travelled several miles since I laid down my pen last; yet you will read my letter, and travel with me in thought, without moving from your fire-side. On our journey, this evening, we passed the ruin of that noble bridge, built by Augustus, of which but one grand arch now remains. It is constructed of solid brickwork, cased with large square stone flags, clamped with iron. No kind of cement was used. Narni is the name of the town, where we left the carriage, and walked to this interesting arch. The inn here is crowded with English. We are to remain part of to-morrow, that I may have an opportunity of seeing the cascade.

Terni, Thursday. Leaving my sister and Elizabeth seated at a comfortable fire, Richard and I, at eight o'clock this morning, drove to the cascade, five miles distant from the town, in a caratella, which they always have ready for the accommodation of those who wish to visit this stupendous object and because no stranger thinks of leaving the place without going to it, exorbitant charges are made; there being a written law, that for one or two persons in a carriage drawn by a pair of horses, two crowns three pauls and a half is the