of the hill of Albano we saw, in the blue distance, the cities of Albano and Frescati, and further away to the left, shone out amongst dark green woods the white houses of Tivoli and Villa d'Este. On the west, the view was bounded by the Sabine hills, the summits of which were now covered with snow.
We slowly drove back to Rome, whilst the sun, setting in splendor beyond the immense plain, flushed the aqueducts and tower of the Campagna with ever warmer coloring. Deeper and deeper grew their shadows. The road was equally desolate with the whole region through which it passed. We met only a few contadini,—country laborers—who were returning to their homes. The great high road for people and carriages now runs at a considerable distance from this, and the Via Appia is merely a road for old memories and curious travelers.
After some days of diligent search, I succeeded in meeting with comfortable apartments on the Corso, the great artery of modern Rome. We have there a kind landlady, a little maid, and a clever donna, or female servant, who takes the management of our household, and we can already attest the truth of the saying, that one can live nowhere so well and so cheaply as in Rome. But one ought not, however, to live in hotels, and least of all in a “white-washed” nest of robbers, like La Minerva. We live not far from Monte Pincio and the Piazza del Popolo, where I first saw the evening star, Jupiter, beaming over Rome. Our outward life is now well arranged, and I can with all the freer mind devote myself to Rome,
