other cataract in the world:  we can only combine rocks, wood, and water, in certain proportions.  A good picture may give a tolerable idea of a particular scene or landscape:  but no picture, no painter, not Ruysdael himself, can give a just idea of a cataract.  The lifeless, silent, unmoving image is there:  but where is the thundering roar, the terrible velocity, the glory of refracted light, the eternity of sound, and infinity of motion, in which essentially its effect consists?

In the valley beneath the Falls of Terni, there is a beautiful retired little villa, which was once occupied by the late Queen Caroline:  and in the gardens adjoining it, we gathered oranges from the trees ourselves for the first time.  After passing Mount Soracte, of classical fame, we took leave of the Apennines; having lived amongst them ever since we left Bologna.

The costume of this part of the country is very gay and picturesque:  the women wear a white head-dress formed of a square kerchief, which hangs down upon the shoulders, and is attached to the hair by a silver pin:  a boddice half laced, and decorated with knots of ribbon, and a short scarlet petticoat complete their attire.  Between Perugia and Terni I did not see one woman without a coral necklace; and those who have the power, load themselves with trinkets and ornaments.

Rome, December 12.—­The morning broke upon us so beautifully between Civita Castellana and Nevi, that we lauded our good fortune, and anticipated a glorious approach to the “Eternal City.”  We were impatient to reach the heights of Baccano; from which, at the distance of fifteen miles, we were to view the cross of St. Peter’s glittering on the horizon, while the postilions rising in their stirrups, should point forward with exultation, and exclaim “ROMA!” But, O vain hope! who can controul their fate? just before we reached Baccano, impenetrable clouds enveloped the whole Campagna.  The mist dissolved into a drizzling rain; and when we entered the city, it poured in torrents.  Since we left England, this is only the third time it has rained while we were on the road; it seems therefore unconscionable to murmur.  But to lose the first view of Rome! the first view of the dome of St. Peter’s! no—­that lost moment will never be retrieved through our whole existence.

We found it difficult to obtain suitable accommodation for our numerous cortege, the Hotel d’Europe, and the Hotel de Londres being quite full:  and for the present we are rather indifferently lodged in the Albergo di Parigi.

So here we are, in ROME! where we have been for the last five hours, and have not seen an inch of the city beyond the dirty pavement of the Via Santa Croce; where an excellent dinner cooked a l’Anglaise, a blazing fire, a drawing-room snugly carpeted and curtained, and the rain beating against our windows, would almost persuade us that we are in London; and every now and then, it is with a kind of surprise that I remind myself that I am really in Rome.  Heaven send us but a fine day to-morrow!