A mass of new experiences is again storming my mind, but I have only to send you my diary for you to understand. And so I must begin with the confession that leaving Rome went very hard. Life there was so quiet and yet so full. I had made so many delightful acquaintances, and had grown so used to it, that the last days, with their disquietude and running up and down, were doubly unwelcome.
The last evening I went to see Vernet, to say good-bye and thank him for the portrait which was quite finished. Then we had some music, chattered about politics and played chess. Late in the evening I went down the Monte Pincio to my house, threw my things together, and next morning started off with my companions.
I sat in the post-chaise looking out at the country, and could dream my full. When we had taken up our quarters in the evening we all strolled about. The two days were more like a ramble than a journey. The country from Rome to Naples is the richest I know, and the fashion in which one travels very pleasant. One flies over the level plains; for a little drink money the postilions will go at a furious gallop, which is quite what is wanted on the marshes, and if one wants to see the country, it is only necessary to refuse the drink money, and the pace falls off at once. From Albano through Ariccia, and Gengano to Velletri the road goes all the way between hills that are deeply shaded with all sorts of trees, up-hill and down-hill, through long avenues of elms, past monasteries and roadside images of the virgin. On the one hand,
