Thus equipped, I set forth on my expedition on a paved road among vineyards. After some time the pavement ceased, and I passed among pastures, and corn-fields, slightly, or not at all enclosed, but where cultivation seemed to be rather extending itself, and by a little lake, and afterwards along a shady lane, deep in mud, though for some time we have had no rain. On reaching the foot of the mountains, and coasting them by a gradual ascent towards Cora, I found the road frequently to consist of a broken-up pavement; the worst of all possible tracks, but very frequent in the cross roads of Italy. The pavement is made and left; in rainy weather a little current is formed on one side or the other, or sometimes on both; and this undermines the external stones, which soon become loose, and are displaced; and by such a process, sometimes half, sometimes the whole pavement, is worn away; a few isolated fragments still are seen, the rest is an uncertain covering of large stones. A steep descent precedes the entrance into Cora, although the town occupies a high hill. I found the streets so steep and slippery, that I was glad to get off and lead my horse. When I had reached the inn, and put my horse in the stable, I desired the landlord to give him something to eat. He called out for some hay, and down came two trusses out of the two pair of stairs window. I walked up to the room from whence this supply came, and was surprised to find that it wanted some steps of the height of a court on the side of the house, and which afforded another entrance. This may give you some idea of the inequality of the ground. Just below the town is a deep ravine, or rather a cleft in the limestone rock, and the town itself is seated on a rocky hill, of a conical form, which rises immediately from the edge of this chasm. It is almost detached from the chain of Volscian mountains, though placed in a recess amongst them. “_Cora è due paesi_,” said a boy to me, holding up his thumb and forefinger. The Italians never mention a number under ten, without holding up their fingers, the thumb always occupying the first place; “_uno di sotto e uno di sopra_.” My inn was in the lower part of the lower town, although I had found the ascent to it so troublesome. The Temple of Hercules is in a convent at the top of the upper. The portico, which has four columns in front, and two in each flank, remains tolerably perfect, and though rather too small, and rather too slender in its proportions for the exalted situation it occupies, produces a very pleasing effect. The elevation of the columns in proportion to their diameter, is not at all displeasing when we are near the edifice; and if they were stuccoed, as was probably the case, the apparent diameter would have been somewhat larger. The smallness of the architrave is much more objectionable, and the abacus also is too small. The style, as well as the proportions, is between the Greek and Roman