At Rome oranges may be destroyed by frost, but in Greek Italy this is impossible; and things which grow at Rome only in favourable years, are there quite common. This is the case with all plants; in short, a man there finds himself in quite a different country. When at Rome I felt as much at home as a foreigner who has not renounced his own country can possibly feel, and I entered the country free from the prejudices of a native; I visited southern Italy with the physical feeling of a Roman (the Roman climate is still very vividly before my mind), but I had not imagined that every thing could be so different at Terracina. I felt the same when I went from Germany to Italy, though it was then rather the feeling that I was entering a foreign land. The neighbourhood of Terracina is a particularly excellent country. All the wines from the districts of the Liris have a Greek character, whereas those of central Italy stand in the middle between French and Greek wines, and are in reality bad; the sky is of quite a different colour, and the air has something magic and elastic, something elevating and delicious, in comparison with which the atmosphere at Rome is heavy and oppressive. The farther south you go, the more beautiful everything becomes; I never was in the extreme south, but I still hope one day to visit it. However, I have been assured by travellers who had been there, that the charms constantly increase, the farther south you go; you perceive them even at Formiae, still more in the neighbourhood of Naples, and they appear in a still higher degree at Amalfi; in Calabria nature is said to be quite as delightful as on the south coast of Sicily. The physiognomy and the muscles of men also are different.