We left Terracina _on empty stomachs_, notwithstanding the advice of the guide-books, and immediately afterwards entered among the formidable Pontine Marshes. The length of these marshes is more than twenty miles, and their breadth varies from six to twelve. The lowest side is near Terracina, where their waters find an outlet in the sea. Instead of being the waste I had expected to find them, the parts near the road were in meadows, covered with buffaloes. A canal runs near the highway, which is a capital road constructed on the Appian Way, Appius Claudius being the first person who attempted to drain the marshes. Perhaps it was unreasonable to suppose that people who had just enjoyed a night’s rest should feel a propensity to sleep; but it is certain that the only thing drowsy we found about these marshes was the even monotony of the road. As the spot is favourable to robberies, a great extent of country being visible in either direction, the Papal government has placed military posts along the highway, and we scarcely passed a mile without seeing a patrole. These soldiers looked as well as other people; though it is probable they are often changed. On the whole, the scenery was pleasant, particularly in the direction of the mountains, on the sides of which we could distinguish villages and other objects of interest. Towards the sea there was much wood, and nowhere any great appearance of impracticable bogs. The drainings, however, have probably altered the face of the country. The buffalo drivers, with long lances to goad their cattle with, and in a wild costume, were galloping about the meadows, which in particular places were also alive with wild geese feeding. I believe I speak within bounds when I say that we often saw thousands on two or three acres. They took no notice of us, though frequently quite near us, but continued to feed as leisurely as the domesticated birds. We saw many men on the road carrying muskets, but I did not observe one who appeared to be after the geese. We breakfasted at a tavern near the upper end of the marshes, where several carriages arrived about the same time. Among others was that of a Dutch family, the ladies of which alighted from their coach in common caps, bringing with them their needlework, with an air of enviable comfort. I question if there is a civilized people on earth so much addicted to motion as our own, or another that travels with so little enjoyment or so few comforts. Railroads and steam-boats do something for us, it is true; but even they are reduced to the minimum of comfort, because all things are reduced to a medium standard of habits. The ‘go-ahead’ propensities and ‘gregarious’ tastes of the nation set anything above a very moderate mediocrity quite out of the question.