After dinner, J----- and I walked out in the dusk to see what we could of
Terni. We found it compact and gloomy (but the latter characteristic
might well enough be attributed to the dismal sky), with narrow streets,
paved from wall to wall of the houses, like those of all the towns in
Italy; the blocks of paving-stone larger than the little square torments
of Rome. The houses are covered with dingy stucco, and mostly low,
compared with those of Rome, and inhospitable as regards their dismal
aspects and uninviting doorways. The streets are intricate, as well as
narrow; insomuch that we quickly lost our way, and could not find it
again, though the town is of so small dimensions, that we passed through
it in two directions, in the course of our brief wanderings. There are
no lamp-posts in Terni; and as it was growing dark, and beginning to rain
again, we at last inquired of a person in the principal piazza, and found
our hotel, as I expected, within two minutes' walk of where we stood.



FOLIGNO.


May 26th.--At six o'clock this morning, we packed ourselves into our
vettura, my wife and I occupying the coupe, and drove out of the city
gate of Terni. There are some old towers near it, ruins of I know not
what, and care as little, in the plethora of antiquities and other
interesting objects. Through the arched gateway, as we approached, we
had a view of one of the great hills that surround the town, looking
partly bright in the early sunshine, and partly catching the shadows of
the clouds that floated about the sky. Our way was now through the Vale
of Terni, as I believe it is called, where we saw somewhat of the