CHAPTER XXXII.
POTENZA.
I departed when it was already late in the afternoon, 6·40 P.M., having before me, some twelve miles of hilly and difficult road, before I could reach Potenza, where alone I could hope for shelter for the night. A fatiguing ascent of four miles, brought us upon the highest point of the S.E. flank, of the Serra del Cerro, and from this the remainder of our descent was made in the dark; a dreary ride, with a dense wet mist driving before a harsh N.E. wind into our faces, and nothing visible beyond a few yards. The mountains passed over, were wild, lumpy, and quite uninhabited. They appeared to be limestone in the highest points, no part of the road being higher, than the shoulder of Marmo passed in the morning, and lower down, all sorts of strange-looking, argillaceous slates and sandy clays.
It was past ten at night when we got to Potenza, and then an hour and a half was spent in rain and darkness, groping about through streets encumbered with ruins and props, before we could get lodged. It is a large place, the capital of the province (Basilicata), an archiepiscopal city and standing at the eastern verge of the high Apennine ridges, with a vast fertile rolling country, stretching westward before it,
