On Sunday the 23rd of September we left Siena after dinner, and travelled over a convenient road, which was a little unlevel in places, as the country is broken up in low fertile hills. At the end of twenty miles we came to S. Chirico, a pretty little town, where we found lodging outside the walls. Our baggage-horse fell down as he was crossing a brook we had to ford, and thus damaged greatly all my things, my books especially, and we were forced to stop and dry them. Montepulciano, Montecello, and Castiglioncello, were towns standing on neighbouring hills to the left hand. Early on Monday I went to see a bath about two miles distant, called Vignone, after a little town near thereto. The bath is situated in a somewhat elevated position, beneath which runs the river Urcia, and round about it are grouped about a dozen cottages, ill-found and distasteful, a lousy-looking den. There is a large pool, surrounded with a wall and steps, in the midst of which may be seen boiling up several springs of the hot water which, as it has no smell of sulphur, little exhalation, and a red sediment, seemed to me more ferruginous than anything else. It is never drunk. The size of this pool is sixty paces by thirty-five, and near it are four or five covered enclosures for the use of bathers. The bath has considerable reputation, and for drinking the patients here give the preference to the water of S. Carriano near S. Chirico, and eighteen miles towards Rome, to the left of the main road. In looking at the earthenware of these parts, which resembles porcelain, and is white, and clean, and very cheap, I thought it would be far more appetising for table use than the pewter used in France, which in the inns is especially disagreeable. About this time I felt in my head a slight return of the pain from which I deemed I was now fully delivered. It troubled me as before, round the eyes and brow, and the forepart of the head generally, in the form of heaviness and a weary, disquiet feeling, causing, me much anxiety. On Tuesday we dined at La Paglia, after a ride of thirteen miles, and slept at a bad inn at S. Lorenzo, sixteen miles farther on. On Wednesday morning a dispute arose between our people, and the _vetturini_ of Siena, who, thinking that we were over-long in the road, made a demur about paying the outlay for the horses for this evening. The matter became so serious that I brought it before the governor, who, having heard it, decided in my favour, and sent one of the _vetturini_ to prison. I argued that the accident to the baggage-horse in the river, by which the greater part of my goods were spoilt, was the real cause of any delay.