The name Ancona is derived from the Greek word[2] describing the corner which the sea makes in this spot. The two horns of the coast project and leave between them a deep depression in which the town stands, protected in the front by these two headlands, and in the rear by a high ridge where formerly stood a fort. The Greeks still have their church, over the door of which is an ancient stone inscribed with certain characters which I take to be Sclavonic.[3] The women here are for the most part good-looking, and I saw many decent-looking men and good artisans. After dinner we followed the road by the sea, which is calmer and less turbulent than our western ocean. The land is cultivated almost to the water’s edge. After travelling twenty miles we arrived at Sinigaglia in time for bed. This is a pretty little town, situated in a fine level country and hard by the sea, possessed of a good harbour, and washed on one side by a river which comes down from the mountains. The port is excellently fitted, the quays on either side being covered with wooden framework, where the ships lie in safety, and the entrance furnished with chains. I saw no remains of antiquity. We lodged outside the town in an excellent inn, the only one in the place, which they say was called of old _Senogallia_, after our forefathers who settled there in the days when they were overthrown by Camillus; now it is under the rule of the Duke of Urbino.[4] At this time I felt somewhat unwell, for on the day I left Rome when M. d’ Ossat[5] was walking with me, I saluted a gentleman we met, and I did this in so maladroit a fashion that I injured the corner of my right eye with my right thumb, so much so that it bled and remained much inflamed for a long time. When it healed--_Erat tunc dolor ad unguem sinistrum_. I forgot to mention that I saw at Ancona in the church of San Ciriaco a tombstone to the memory of a certain _Antonia Rocamoro, patre: matre, Valletta: Galla, Aquitana: Paciocco Urbinati, Lusitano nupta_, who was buried ten or twelve years ago. We quitted Sinigaglia early in the morning, and followed a very agreeable road running by the sea coast. Near dinner time we crossed the Metro, _Metaurus_, by a large wooden bridge, and dined at Fano, fifteen miles on our road.