where they find something to complain of. To listen to them is like reading a few pages out of Archenholz's book.
To me the Apennines are a most remarkable portion of the world. The great plains of the basin of the Po are followed by a hilly tract which rises out of the bottom, in order, after running between the two seas, to form the southern extremity of the continent. If the hills had been not quite so steep and high above the level of the sea, and had not their directions crossed and recrossed each other as they do, the ebb and flow of the tides in primeval times might have exercised a greater and wider influence on them, and might have washed over and formed extensive plains; in which case this would have been one of the most beautiful regions of this glorious clime,—somewhat higher than the rest of it. As it is, however, it is a strong net of mountain-ridges, interlacing each other in all directions. One often is puzzled to know whither the waters will find their vent. If the valleys were better filled up, and the bottoms flatter and more irrigated, the land might be compared to Bohemia, only that the mountains have in every respect a different character. However, it must not for one moment be thought of as a mountainous waste, but as a highly cultivated though hilly district. The chestnut grows very fine here; the wheat excellent, and that of this year's sowing is already of a beautiful green. Along the roads are planted evergreen oaks with their small leaves; but around the churches and chapels, the slim cypress.
Perugia, Oct. 25, 1786.
Evening.For two evenings I have not been writing. The inns on the road were so wretchedly bad, that it was quite useless to think of bringing out a sheet of paper. Moreover, I begin to be a little puzzled to find aany-
