After the Venus, we were introduced to the Whetter, the Wrestler, the Dancing Fawn, the little Apollo, the flying Mercury, and the unhappy family of Niobe; as well as various others, whose names I cannot remember. Before leaving Florence, I found it necessary to get a new passport from our ambassador; the old one having been filled up at every point with signs and countersigns, until the original writing was nearly lost in the midst of marginal additions, as well as unintelligible from the length of service it had undergone. After getting the new passport from our ambassador, it was necessary to procure the signatures of two departments of the police, the pope’s legate (to pass through a part of the Roman states,) the Austrian, Piedmontese ambassadors, and also the agent of the Swiss cantons, in expectation of getting through all these states without farther trouble; but our expectations in this respect were not realized; for they always contrive, in large towns, to create some necessity or other for additional signatures. At length the day arrived for our departure for Milan, and, on Tuesday the 3rd of July, we took a final leave of Florence. In the early part of the day, before we began to ascend the Apennines, it was warm and pleasant, but after we reached these more elevated regions, it became so cold and cloudy, that we expected a fall of snow. In the afternoon we quitted the Tuscan territory with little trouble, but on arriving within the Roman states, were detained for some time, and all our baggage examined and leaded: this they made us pay for; but it had the good effect of enabling us to pass through Bologna, and out of the pope’s territories, without farther interruption. We stopped for the night at a solitary house in the Apennines, thirty-eight miles from Florence, which as we had five successive days to travel, although our horses and the roads were particularly good, was too long a day’s journey in so mountainous a country. At noon, on the following day, we reached Bologna, where two of our passengers left us for Ferrara. Our remaining companions were an old gentleman with a young wife, returning home to Piacenza; he was a captain in the army of the Dutchess of Parma. Bologna impressed us as a dull, although a fine, city. We ascended to the top of a brick tower, from whence there is a commanding view of the country, with the Apennines forming a fine bold feature on one side, and the plains of Lombardy on the other. This tower, built by the family of Givelli, and said to be three hundred and sixty-five feet in height, is mounted by a wooden staircase of four hundred and fifty steps; the whole in so ruinous a state, that it was scarcely safe to ascend it. One would almost wonder that so large a structure should not have been thought worthy of a stone, or even marble, staircase, in a country where the latter material is so plentiful.