I got up at half-past five to examine the bridge and castle. The morning was delicious; the vapours were still low, but the genial beams of the sun dissipated them shortly. The luxury of a fine morning at that hour is very great, and has the additional charm of singularity to me, as I sit up in melancholy solitude too late at night to be in the habit of tasting the dews of the morning. Crossed the Tiber over the Ponte Felice, the boundary of Latium. We soon got amongst the hills, very beautifully covered to their summits with brushwood and forest trees. At Terni we took _calèches_ to see the cascade. We first went to the top; in our way we passed the little village Papigno, which in ’86 was very near demolished by an earthquake; there were three shocks, which successively destroyed the houses and church. From the top of the Monte del Marmore the fall is very grand; it is reckoned the grandest in Europe and scarcely yields to that of Niagara in America.[49] Caius[50] Dentatus, a Roman Consul, increased the cataract by turning the waters from the country of Rieti into the Lake Luco, by which the mass of water in the Velino was increased. We saw several rainbows in the spray. The Velino like the Anio has the property of incrustation, vulgarly called _petrifying water_. All the roots of the trees are petrified by this deposition of selenite. The Velino is very rapid. Just above the fall there is a ferry; two intrepid _Cappuccini_ would cross when the flood was roaring; they paid the forfeit of their lives for their temerity. The stream impelled the fragile bark to the brink, and they were dashed to pieces speedily; their cowls, rosary, and patron saint could not save them. We went to the foot of the mountain to look up at the cascade, a magnificent sight. We rode upon _somarelli_ through a delicious grove of orange and lemon trees, and afterwards through a small wood filled with nightingales. I was enchanted: the melody of the birds, the tranquillity and perfume of the air, and the beauty of all the objects around, suspended for a moment my habitual discontent, and I felt even happy. We dined in a little wood of myrtle and ilex, but when we assembled together the illusion of happiness vanished. How far preferable is solitude to the society of those who are too nearly connected to be objects of indifference. Love or hatred must be bestowed upon habitual inmates! Alas! Alas! Would it were true what I say in public, that my heart is shut to social affections. Every occasion that calls forth _épanchement_ proves the _besoin_ I have to belong to something that I can cherish. Mr. Hodges[51] travels with us as far as Florence. He is a good-tempered, gentlemanlike man, and full of readiness to do any little services; were he odious, I should rejoice at the society of a _tiers_. [Sidenote: ST. FRANCIS]