Terni, Oct. 27, 1786.
Evening.Again sitting in a "cave," which, only a year before, suffered from an earthquake. The little town lies in the midst of a rich country (for taking a circuit round the city I explored it with pleasure), at the beginning of a beautiful plain which lies between two ridges of limestone hills. Terni, like Bologna, is situated at the foot of the mountain range.
Almost ever since the papal officer left me, I have had a priest for my companion. The latter appears better contented with his profession than the soldier, and is ready to enlighten me, whom he very soon saw to be a heretic, by answering any question I might put to him concerning the ritual and other matters of his church. By thus mixing continually with new characters, I thoroughly obtain my object. It is absolutely necessary to hear the people talking together, if you would form a true and lively image of the whole country. The Italians are in the strangest manner possible rivals and adversaries of each other. Every one is strongly enthusiastic in the praise of his own town and state. They cannot bear with one another: and, even in the same city, the different ranks nourish perpetual feuds, and all this with a profoundly vivacious and most obvious passionateness; so that, while they expose one another's pretensions, they keep up an amusing comedy all day long. And yet they are quick at understanding others, and seem quite aware how impossible it is for a stranger to enter into their ways and thoughts.
I ascended to Spoleto, and went along the aqueduct which serves also for a bridge from one mountain to another. The ten brick arches which span the valley have quietly stood there through centuries; and the water still flows into Spoleto, and reaches its remotest quarters. This is the third great work of the ancients
