On the Sunday morning we came to a plain which, as well as the slopes adjacent, seemed fertile enough, and then passed through Sant’ Angelo, a pretty little town belonging to the Duke of Urbino, and lying on the banks of the Metaurus, the approaches thereto being very handsome. Because it was the eve of May-day they served us some of the little frogs that were wont to be eaten at Mid-Lent.[24] Continuing our course along the plain we passed through another village, called Marcatello, and having travelled ten miles along a road which, after quitting Marcatello, began to go uphill, we arrived for dinner at Borgo a Pasci, a small village with a wretched inn at a corner of the mountain. We took only a sup. Then we followed at first a wild and stony track, and had to mount for two miles to the top of the pass, after which came a descent of four miles, the road being stony and wearisome, but not frightful or dangerous, seeing that there were no precipices so abrupt that the eye could not find some point whereon to rest. We had followed the Metaurus to its first home, its source being in these mountains, and had seen it lose itself in the sea at Sinigaglia. As we descended from this height there came in sight a broad and lovely plain, through which ran the Tiber, here some eight miles from its source, and other mountains beyond; a view not unlike that which presents itself in the Limaigne of Auvergne to those who may come down from the Puy de Domme to Clermont. At the top of the pass we emerged from the dominions of the Duke of Urbino into those of the Duke of Florence, those of the Pope lying on the left hand. We arrived for supper at Borgo San Sepolcro, thirteen miles from our last halt. This little town belongs to the Duke of Florence, and contains nought worth notice. We left it on the first of May, and a mile from the town we passed by a stone bridge over the Tiber, which is here a clear and beautiful stream, a proof that the dirty tawny hue which it bears at Rome--Flavum Tiberini--is caused by the admixture of some other stream. We went for four miles over this plain and came upon a little town on the top of the first hill we ascended. Here, as elsewhere along the road, divers young girls came to meet us, and took hold of our horses’ bridles, singing and begging a gift for the feast of the day. From this hill we descended into a deep stony valley which we followed for some time, riding beside the bed of a torrent, and then we had to mount another barren, stony hill, from the top of which we caught sight of a wide plain. In traversing this we crossed the Chiasso and the Arno by stone bridges, the bridge over the last-named stream being very fine and large; and, having ridden eighteen miles, we put up for the night at Ponte Boriano, where there was but one small house in which we were very badly lodged, as on the three previous nights, and indeed at well-nigh every halting-place on this route.