_July 2nd, Tuesday._--I parted from my children this morning at eleven. I have left them comfortable, established in a good house with proper attendants, and Dr. Stuart and an Italian physician, Gianetti, to take care of them. The day was delicious, ardent sun, deep blue sky, everybody was gasping from the heat; I alone as cold as marble, but inwardly warmed by the glowing sun. [Sidenote: CROSSING THE APENNINES] Prato is the first post, a pretty little town; put me in mind of La Bonneville in Savoy. It is situated at the foot of a range of calcareous hills forming the sides of a crater of considerable extent. We continued in this plain till we reached Pistoja. The heat being too intense to remain in the carriage, we stopped two hours at Pistoja. Two miles from Pistoja we began ascending the high chain of Apennines, which runs across Italy and divides it from Cisalpine Gaul, or Lombardy. About half-way up the hill to the first post we stopped to look back upon the valley. Florence, Pistoja, Prato, the Umbrino meandering in the plain until it reaches the sea at Leghorn, made a lovely _coup d’œil_. The project was to travel all night, but my face pained me so much that by an extraordinary degree of complaisance I was allowed to stop at St. Marcello, a delightful little inn. _Wednesday, July 3rd._--I was enchanted with the prettiness of the environs of the inn: just opposite my window there is a steep verdant bank shaded by tall cypress. The hills above are studded with chestnut, ilex, beech, the wild cherry, and vast assemblage of pretty trees. Passed through a neat town, to which our inn was a suburb. Kept ascending for miles. A magnificent torrent roaring at our feet and the sharp pinnacles of the Apennines springing above our heads. The industry of the inhabitants is manifested by their cultivating every little spot that is accessible to the foot of man, and success warrants their enterprise, as the production is abundant, and the walls prop up the little field. These mountains must have afforded a secure asylum to those numerous predatory bands which infested this delightful country in former days; the bold robber might bid defiance to the vigilance of the _Holy Brother_. Indeed, the wretched state of society about the Middle Ages must have rendered travelling a service of danger, from the perpetual wars between each petty State, the burdensome jurisdiction of the barons, and the outrages committed by outlaws.