Yesterday morning we were to have started on the _giro_ of Tivoli at six, but as women are never ready, and a good deal of eating and drinking was to be gone through before we got under weigh, we were not off till near eight. The consequence was that we got into the heat, and lost the colouring of the early morning, and those lights and shades on which great part of the beauty of this scenery depends. I was altogether disappointed; the hills are either quite bare or covered with olives, the most tiresome of trees; the falls are all artificial, and though the view at the foot of the largest (or as near as you can approach it) is beautiful, on the whole no part of the scenery answered my expectations. The water falls in eleven separate cascades (above and below), and sinking into the gulf appears to boil up again in clouds of spray, but the artificial channel above is distinctly visible. There is an ancient bridge over the Anio and part of a road up to Tivoli in wonderful preservation. Our party pleased their imaginations by thinking that Augustus and Mecaenas had probably gone cheek by jowl over the road and bridge, but Stupendous told me it was built by Valerian, A.D. 253, though he had no notion who Valerian was, except that he was an Emperor. There are some curious remains of Mecaenas's Villa, particularly the places (if they are really so) where the slaves were kept, which are just like cellars. I cannot remember seeing any apartments destined for slaves at Pompeii, but from all one sees or hears and reads of the Roman slaves, they must have been treated in a manner that it is inconceivable they should have endured, considering their numbers, and of what they were generally composed--barbarian prisoners or free citizens reduced to servitude. We ended the _giro_ at the Villa d'Este, and breakfasted on the terrace; the rest of the party then retired to sleep and play at cards at the inn, and I started with Stupendous to see the remains of an ancient city, and some specimens of Cyclopean walls, about four or five miles off. The first place is called Ventidius Bassa's, because that gentleman had a villa there, built on the ruins of a little Cyclopean town, where there are still some walls standing. From thence to Mitriano, which must have been a large town, the vestiges still covering several hills, and the remains of walls being very large; there is nothing left but a few broken fluted columns, and one flat marble stone perfect, with an inscription. This jaunt was hardly worth the trouble. When I came back from Mitriano, I went down to the Grotto of the Syrens, from whence the view of the cascade is much finer than from the other grotto, and really grand; but the path is very slippery from the clouds of spray constantly falling over it. I did not go quite to the grotto, for Stupendous told me he had nearly slipped down the rock and cracked his crown; so I declined running that risk, but saw just as well, for I went nearly to the bottom.