Volkmann teaches me that this lake was formerly called "Benacus," and quotes from Virgil a line in which it was mentioned:—
"Fluctibus et fremiter resonans, Benace, marino."
This is the first Latin verse the subject of which ever stood visibly before me; and now, in the present moment, when the wind is blowing more and more strongly, and the lake casts loftier billows against the little harbour, it is just as true as it was hundreds of years ago. Much, indeed, has changed; but the wind still roars about the lake, the aspect of which gains even greater glory from a line of Virgil's.
The above was written in a latitude of 45° 50’.
I went out for a walk in the cool of the evening; and now I really find myself in a new country, surrounded by objects entirely strange. The people lead a careless, sauntering life. In the first place, the doors are without locks; but the host assured me that I might be quite at ease, even though all I had about me consisted of diamonds. In the second place, the windows are covered with oiled paper instead of glass. In the third place, an extremely necessary convenience is wanting, so that one comes pretty close to a state of nature. When I asked the waiter for a certain place, he pointed down into the courtyard: "Qui, abasso puo servirsi!"—"Dove?" asked I. "Da per tutto, dove vuol," was the friendly reply. The greatest carelessness is visible everywhere, but still there is life and bustle enough. During the whole day the women of the neighbourhood are incessantly chattering and shrieking: all have something to do at the same time. I
have not yet seen an idle woman.
The host, with Italian emphasis, assured me that he felt great pleasure in being able to serve me with the
