"Wednesday, 5th September. Cadenabbia.--Bent our course toward Fuentes--and after a wearisome walk through damp and breathless heat (a full league or more) over a perfect level, we reached the foot of the eminence, which from the lake had appeared to be at a small distance, but it seemed to have retreated as we advanced. We had left the high road, and trudged over the swampy plain, through which the road must have been made with great expense and labour, as it is raised considerably all the way. The picturesque ruins of the Castle of Fuentes are at the top of the eminence--wild vines, the bramble and the clematis cling to the bushes; and beautiful flowers grow in the chinks of the rocks, and on every bed of grass. A _tempting_ though rugged ascent--yet (with the towers in sight above our heads, and two-thirds of the labour accomplished) Mary and I (Wm. having gone before to discover the nearest and least difficult way for us) sate down determined not to go a step further. We had a grand prospect; and, being exhausted by the damp heat, were willing for once to leave our final object unattained. However, while seated on the ground, two stout hard-laboured peasants chancing to come close to us on the path, invited us forward, and we could not resist--they led the way--two rough creatures. "I said to Mary when we were climbing up among the rocks and bushes in that wild and lonely place, 'What, you have no fear of trusting yourself to a pair of Italian Banditti?' I knew not their occupation, but an accurate description of their persons would have fitted a novel-writer with ready-made attendants for a tribe of robbers--good-natured and kind, however they were, nay, even polite in their rustic way as others tutored to city civility. _Cultivated_ vines grew upon the top of the hill; and they took pains to pluck for us the ripest grapes. We now had a complete view up the great vale of the Adda, to which, the road that we had left conducts the Traveller. Below us, on the other side, lay a wide green marshy plain, between the hill of Fuentes and the shores of the lake; which plain, spreading upwards, divides the lake; the upper small reach being called Chiavenna. The path which my Brother had travelled, when bewildered in the night thirty years ago, was traceable through some parts of the forest on the opposite side:--and the very passage through which he had gone down to the shore of the lake--then most dismal with thunder, lightning, and rain. I hardly can conceive a place of more solitary aspect than the lake of Chiavenna: and the whole of the prospect on that direction is characterized by melancholy sublimity. We rejoiced, after our toil, at being favoured with a distinct view of those sublime heights, not, it is true, steeped in celestial hues of _sunny glory_, yet in communion with clouds, floating or stationary:--scatterings from heaven. The Ruin itself is very interesting, both in the mass and in detail--an inscription is lying on