Pontine marshes. Terracina was a Volscian town, and anciently named Anxur, or Axur; but the Greeks called it Trachina (i. e. steep), on account of the bold white rocks by which it is flanked; and hence its modern name Terracina. The ancient Anxur was situated on the rocky height overlooking the sea; and remains of it are still visible. The Appian way passed through Terracina.

After several hours delay for want of horses, we resumed our route, in the hope of being able to reach Naples, sometime in the evening or night, however late. On arriving, however, at the barrier which separates the Neapolitan from the Papal States, the lynx-eyed officer of a jealous government detected a deficiency in our passports. Although we took the precaution, on leaving England, to have foreign office passports, and though they were properly signed by the British and Roman authorities at Rome, they had not received the signature of the Neapolitan minister. This was fatal to our progress, and very vexatious. No remedy suggested itself, but that of entrusting our passports to the next Neapolitan courier to Rome on the following morning, which involved the necessity of our return to Terracina, there to await the arrival of the precious documents. The hardhearted official of the Neapolitan government had no commiseration whatever with us in our unhappy predicament; and back to Terracina we went with most unwilling steps. Having entrusted our passports to a courier, we waited their return with all the patience we could command-prisoners as we were in the hands of the papal authorities. Oh, highly privileged Britain! through whose length and breadth both native and foreigner, with equal freedom, may make their route without the espionage of police, or the hindrance connected with passports. I wish those who bellow about freedom, in a land of liberty like ours, could just taste the reverse of liberty, as the slaves of Rome and the serfs of some other continental governments do. It would, perhaps, bring them to a better judgment.

Terracina, like all other Italian towns, swarms with beg

gars; and troops of squalid and ragged children, trained to that odious habit of life, beset you at every step. You hear their small voices in little more than a half whisper, as if they were almost ashamed of themselves, craving for the smallest donation; and in this way they will continue to pursue you for several hundred yards, according as you may seem to look kindly on them or otherwise. The whole population of the papal states, so far as I had opportunity of observing, appeared miserably poor and destitute; and those at Terracina peculiarly so. No resident gentry are in the neighborhood to care for the people, or give a tone of moral improvement to their minds. The Italian peasantry have but few wants, and are content with what would be deemed destitution by the extravagant beer-and-dram-drinking people of England. True, the necessaries of life are far cheaper in Italy than in England; but I am persuaded that if an Italian peasant could have the income of an English artisan, he would account himself a wonderfully rich man, and never dream of hardship or discontent. In the neighborhood of Terracina, you now and then meet a fine intelligent-looking man, with a rich olive complexion, black hair and full black eyes, wrapped in his flowing brown mantua, and wearing the high-peaked and broad-brimmed hat. Though the Brigands are now nearly extinct, yet in the costume which I have just mentioned, you trace much that induces you to associate the idea of brigandism with any such you meet.

At Terracina I gathered oranges and lemons from the orchards by the wayside, giving a trifle of money to the proprietors for permission to do so. A single paul is quite sufficient to procure all your pockets full of oranges and lemons. We found a few palm trees, the first I had ever seen, mingled with olive, orange, and lemon trees. The appearance of their graceful feathery foliage in the landscape is very beautiful. In our walks we found great numbers of lively green lizards, scampering upon the rocks, and shining and sparkling in the sun. They are graceful creatures, both in their form and motion. Buffaloes are very much used in this country

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for the purpose of draught, and appear to be very docile; and there is also a fine breed of noble long-horned oxen, many of which are also employed in a similar manner.

Having time at our disposal while delayed at Terracina, we availed ourselves of the opportunity afforded, for examining a part of the Appian way, which runs through the town towards Rome. We traced it distinctly in greater or less degrees of preservation, nearly to the point where it was met by the present road over the Pontine marshes; and the greater part of it is as fresh, and in as solid a state as at any time during the existence of ancient Rome. While walking on this memorable road, it was not by any means an effort of the imagination to conceive that our feet were actually pressing the very stones on which St. Paul trod in his way to Rome, after having appealed to Cæsar; for it is more than probable that he journeyed on foot, such being then the customary mode of travelling: and in earlier days it was usual even for persons of distinction to travel as pedestrians. Horace cer tainly passed over this road on foot, from Rome to Mola d: Gäeta. Alas! what changes has Rome undergone since the day on which the Apostle trod the Appian way. How has gospel light become dim. How unlike is the Christianity now professed there, to that which had gained ground when he addressed his admirable epistle "to all that be in Rome. beloved of God, called to be saints." How deep must have been the emotion of his energetic and heavenly mind, when toiling along the Appian way, not only to make good his appeal to Cæsar, but also to visit the church which divine grace had planted in the heart of pagan Rome.

On the third day our passports arrived, and we hailed the prospects of emancipation with great delight. We were soon on the road to Fondi, having sent forward a messenger to provide a carriage from thence to meet us at the Neapolitan barrier. Our passports were sufficient, and we were at once permitted to go on. Whether the general mendicity of the people, or the mean rapacity of the Dogana, be the more disgusting feature of this most wretched place, I cannot quite deter

MOLA--TOMB OF CICERO.

39

mine. The looks of the professed mendicants, and of the of ficers of the Dogana, were equally hungry and wolfish. Having passed the examination of baggage, and got free from the inquisitorial officials, we recommenced our route on the celebrated pass to Itri-the territory of Fra Diavolo, the once strong-hold of brigandism; and certainly, the very aspect of the road, thronged by terrible associations of blood and rapine, is such as to inspire dread and alarm, however safe it may have become in later years. The pass lies through mountains, bare, bleak, and rugged, which sometimes appear to hem in the traveller on every side, and to cut off every avenue of escape from a merciless banditti. Itri itself, the head quarters of brigandism with its strong-hold, occupies a bold and commanding position, and presents an appearance as wretched and degraded as Fondi.

From Itri to Mola di Gäeta, the route was through the most charming variety of rock and valley, clothed on all sides with fine bold plantations of olives and vines, interspersed with orange and lemon groves, enriched and heightened in their tinting by the influence of a tempestuous sky, from which ever and anon the sun burst forth with amazing splendor and brilliancy of effect. The manner of cultivating vines in Italy is very graceful. They are not trained in the dwarf gooseberry-bush form of those in France, but festooned from tree to tree. Mola di Gäeta is a lovely spot, bathed by the waves of the Mediterranean. At a short distance from Mola, on our right, we passed the tomb of Cicero-the erection of a manumitted slave who loved his master, and cherished his memory, when the artfully concealed blow of the cruel Antony and the dissimulating Augustus had laid him in the dust of death. It was on this spot, while on his way to a villa in the neighborhood, that he received the blow of the assassin. And though Cicero was great enough to fill Rome with himself, yet no friend, in any wise his equal, could be found, either affectionate or daring enough to speak out from the marble of the mausoleum, against the atrocity of his "taking off." Two lessons we learn, while standing at the base of the

40:

ST. AGATHA-CAPUA.

sepulchral memorial; the one is, the emptiness and danger of the ambition which is of this world; the other, the fallacy of friendships which are not cemented by the love of God in the heart. The former laid bare his bosom to the knife. The latter directed, and gave terrible energy to the stroke.

At Mola di Gäeta we were in the midst of classic ground; the scene which the imaginative faculties of Homer, Virgil and Horace peopled with a race of heroes, gods, and demigods, from whose vices, passions, and achievements, the light and shade of the poetic page have been supplied. The dreams of fancy remain. The classic soil still breathes of other days; but the lyre of the poet is now silent as the dust of the grave in which his ashes repose. Homer is a name; Virgil-a name; Horace-a name!

It was a bright April morning, which shed lustre upon the whole picture, when we quitted Mola, on our way to Naples. From Mola to St. Agatha, the route was charming, having on the left, the chain of the Apennines with their snowy capes, and on the right, the tideless Mediterranean, presenting an aspect of sweet repose. The intermediate landscape on either side is composed of olive grounds, vineyards, and corn fields-a lovely scene of fertility and abundance. During this part of our journey, I observed for the first time, the abundant growth of aloes of an immense size, lining the hedge-rows, and spreading their broad bold leaves in a majestic manner, giving a very peculiar character to the landscape.

From St. Agatha to Capua, our route lay through a plain, richly cultivated, and abounding in vineyards and corn fields, as if the bounties of nature were lavished in profusion. Capua is a fortified town, and a princedom; but alas, how filthy, wretched, and squalid. Heartily glad were we, when the wearisome repetition of police examination was over, and we were permitted to make our way still onward over the plain of vineyards and fields which lies beyond Capua.

It was on the fourth of April that we entered Naples,