November 24th.

To-day we passed through some very pretty, though not populous districts.  In the afternoon we at length reached two towns,—­ namely, Viterbo, with 13,000 inhabitants, lying in a fruitful plain; and Montefiascone, built on a high hill, and backed by lofty mountains, on which a celebrated vine is cultivated.  At the foot of the hill, near Montefiascone, lies a small lake, and farther on one of considerable size, the Lago de Balsana, with a little town of the same name, once the capital of the Volsci.  An ancient fortress rises in the midst of this town, surrounded by tall and venerable houses as with a wreath.

We had now to cross a considerable mountain, an undertaking of some difficulty when we consider how heavily the rain had fallen.  By the aid of an extra pair of horses we passed safely over the miserable roads, and took up our quarters for the night in the little village of Lorenzo.  We had already reached the domain of the Apennines.

November 25th.

We had now only a few more hours to travel through the papal dominions.  The river Centino forms the boundary between the States of the Church and Tuscany.  The greater portion of the region around us gave tokens of its volcanic origin.  We saw several grottoes and caverns of broken stone resembling lava, basaltic columns, etc.

The Dogana of Tuscany, a handsome building, stands in the neighbourhood of Ponte Centino.  The country here wears a wild aspect; as far as the eye can stretch, it rests upon mountains of different elevations.  The little town of Radicofani lies on the plateau of a considerable hill, surrounded by rocks and huge blocks of stone.  A citadel or ancient fortress towers romantically above the little town, and old towers look down from the summit of many a hill and cliff.  The character of the lower mountain-range is exceedingly peculiar; it is split into gaps and fissures in all directions, as though it had but recently emerged from the main.

For many hours we almost rode through a flood.  The water streamed down the streets, and the wind howled round our carriage with such violence that we seriously anticipated being blown over.  Luckily the streets in the Tuscan are better than those in the Roman territory, and the rivers are crossed by firm stone bridges.

November 26th.

To-day our poor horses had a hard time of it.  Up hill and down hill, and past yawning chasms, our way lay for a long time through a desert and barren district, until, at a little distance from the village of Buonconvento, the scene suddenly changed, and a widely-extended, hilly country, with beautiful plains, the lovely town of Siena, numerous villages great and small, with homesteads and handsome farms, and solitary churches built on hills, lay spread before us.  Every thing shewed traces of cultivation and opulence.

Most of the women and girls we met were employed in plaiting straw.  Here all wear straw hats—­men, women, and children.  At five in the evening we at length reached