“And hooting boys might dry-shod pass,
    And gather pebbles from the naked ford.”

While we traversed the field of battle at a slow pace, V. who had his Livy in his pocket, read aloud his minute description of the engagement; and we could immediately point out the different places mentioned by the historian.  The whole valley and the hills around are now covered with olive woods; and from an olive tree which grew close to the edge of the lake, I snatched a branch as we passed by, and shall preserve it—­an emblem of peace, from the theatre of slaughter.  The whole landscape as we looked back upon it from a hill on this side of the Casa del Rano, was exceedingly beautiful.  The lake seemed to slumber in the sunshine; and Passignano jutting into the water, with its castellated buildings, the two little woody islands, and the undulating hills enclosing the whole, as if to shut it from the world, made it look like a scene fit only to be peopled by fancy’s fairest creations, if the remembrance of its blood-stained glories had not started up, to rob it of half its beauty.  Mrs. R——­ compared it to the lake of Geneva; but in my own mind, I would not admit the comparison.  The lake of Geneva stands alone in its beauty; for there the sublimest and the softest features of nature are united:  there the wonderful, the wild, and the beautiful, blend in one mighty scene; and love and heroism, poetry and genius, have combined to hallow its shores.  The lake of Perugia is far more circumscribed:  the scenery around it wants grandeur and extent; though so beautiful in itself, that if no comparison had been made, no want would have been suggested:  and on the bloody field of Thrasymene I looked with curiosity and interest unmingled with pleasure.  I have long survived my sympathy with the fighting heroes of antiquity.  All this I thought as we slowly walked up the hill, but I was silent as usual:  as Jaques says, “I can think of as many matters as other men, but I praise God, and make no boast of it.”  We arrived here too late to see any thing of the city.

Dec. 10th, at Terni.—­The ridiculous contre-temps we sometimes meet with would be matter of amusement to me, if they did not affect others.  And in truth, as far as paying well, and scolding well, can go, it is impossible to travel more magnificently, more a la milor Anglais than we do:  but there is no controlling fate; and 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.