On the morning of the 18th of May, I left Rome for Florence. The coachman pays all expenses of meals and lodging on the road, which secures the passengers from the impositions of the innkeepers, who will generally make the most exorbitant charges when they get a traveller in their power. My companions were a couple of jolly Italian priests; a young Frenchman, full of _harum scarum_ liveliness; a grave old Polander, and a Roman country girl. The sun rose gloriously over the Appenines as we left the city behind us, and the soft, balmy breeze of the morning seemed to give life and freshness ‘to everything. The lofty peaks of the Appenines, however, were covered with snow. After leaving the desert level of the Campagna, we came to a delightful country of green meadows, interspersed with fields of wheat, and long ridges of blue mountains at a distance. People were mowing in the field: and the patches of wheat were curiously spotted over with red poppies. Beyond this the country became still more beautifully picturesque. Several old towers, with crumbling ruins and grass-grown walls, added to the variety and interest of the landscape. As we approached the Appenines, the country grew wilder, but everywhere exhibited a succession of enchanting views. There appeared little cultivation: the trees were chiefly olive and ilex. The mountains were covered with trees of a stunted growth. On the afternoon of the second day we stopped at Narni, a village standing on a high rocky cliff, overlooking the vale of Terni. From the window of our inn, as I looked up the valley, I discerned a black thunder-cloud gathering on the mountains, and advised our driver not to go forward for the present. Presently the cloud began to roll down the valley toward us, spreading out its dark folds so as to fill the whole extent of the vale. I contemplated the approach of this mountain giant with feelings of sublimity and awe. The air, which at first had been in a dead calm and burning heat, now began to move, with cool breezes, which rapidly increased to a furious gale. In the midst of the tempest I was struck with a noise of what I supposed to be a clap of thunder, but which exactly resembled the report of a musket. Presently another, and another, and another, like a running fire of musketry, caused me to doubt whether it was really thunder. Casting my eyes up the steep sides of the crag on which the town is built, I saw muskets popping out and firing from the windows of every house. “What is the meaning of this?” asked I of a little boy who stood by. “To break the gale,” he replied. “See how it blows:--in a minute or two the wind will all go down.” Sure enough, in a few minutes the wind ceased, and a tremendous shower of rain, with thunder and lightning, followed; after which the clouds swept off, and all was clear and serene.