plan had been to obtain a bed there; but appearances were not promising, and finding myself in good time, I determined to return, and proceed to San Cosimato; I therefore procured some eggs and curd, the best dinner to be had, and walked with my new guide to Fonte Bello, supposed, but without sufficient reason, to be the Fons Bandusiæ. We are here quite among the mountains. The fountain is a small spring at the foot of an insignificant rock, the water of which does not taste cold, and therefore has probably been previously exposed to the influence of the air. A little above this is a larger rock, hollowed out into caves, and shaded with trees and shrubs (but unfortunately, not with ilex), and from its foot a few trifling threads of water passed over the ground, between it and the before-mentioned rock, and joined the water of the spring: the situation is a narrow, rocky ravine, filled with wood, above which Monte Gennaro rises in several summits, and forms, with its ramifications, all these valleys. The point immediately above us, on the south, is called Monte Campitelli, and is pointed out by the people of the place, as the ancient Lucretilis, a name which more probably belonged to the whole mass of mountain. In passing from the spring to the villa of Horace, we met with another supply of water, much more copious and beautiful, but this is conducted artificially along the hill, and discharges itself over an arch into a large basin; it is called the Fonte del Oratino. There is a third spring, but of the smallest size, immediately behind the villa. Of this villa itself there are no apparent remains, except one trifling fragment of wall; but there is a flat space now occupied by one vineyard and part of another, whose surface has the appearance of an artificial level, under which, at the depth of about eighteen inches, traces of foundations are observable, and a mosaic pavement in good preservation. They told me of vaults and baths, but altogether under the present surface. There can be no doubt that Horace’s Sabine villa was hereabouts, in the upper part of this valley; and it may have been on this very spot, but we have no proof. As for the Fons Bandusiæ, I am afraid that we have no sort of reason for believing it to be in this neighbourhood. The Abbé Chaupy, who has published a long work on the subject, insists that it was near Venosa, the native country of Horace; and he even finds there the name of Bandulia, which is sufficiently near. Unfortunately, there is no fountain, but that may have been filled up in the lapse of eighteen centuries. I hope you are perfectly convinced.[9] After seeing what was to be seen, I returned down the valley, but instead of keeping the road by which I had ascended, directed my course to the Franciscan convent of San Cosimato, where the good fathers gave me a supper and bed, and entertained me with a number of stories about snakes found among these mountains.