Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna . l refuses to nourish corn or vines. Somepoor olive trees grow sparsely round a solitary hut here and there. Coarse grass andherbage grow on the little scraps of pasture land, high among the hills, and the sheep ofthe Campagna climb up hither to pass the summer, which is always cool here. In thegreen little valley of Trevi the Anio begins its course, which, were we to follow it, wouldbring us to the rich district of Subiaco with its tranquil mountain monasteries, to the SHORES OF LA GO FUCINO TO THE PONTINE MARSHES. 305 enchanting cascades of Tivoli, and fina
Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna . l refuses to nourish corn or vines. Somepoor olive trees grow sparsely round a solitary hut here and there. Coarse grass andherbage grow on the little scraps of pasture land, high among the hills, and the sheep ofthe Campagna climb up hither to pass the summer, which is always cool here. In thegreen little valley of Trevi the Anio begins its course, which, were we to follow it, wouldbring us to the rich district of Subiaco with its tranquil mountain monasteries, to the SHORES OF LA GO FUCINO TO THE PONTINE MARSHES. 305 enchanting cascades of Tivoli, and finally to the sacred city of Rome itself. But we willfirst turn towards the venerable and ancient Alatri. We have passed through a very beautiful landscape. Every time we look backwardfrom any height we see through some gap in the distant silvery mountains, a golden plainswimming and steeped in sunlight :—that is the Roman Campagna. But soon dark,woody, wildly-shaped mountains rise before us, and the road winds along a precipice and. CYCLOPEAN WALLS NEAR ALBA FUCESE. enters a hoary ancient wood of oaks and chestnuts, with countless fragments of rock allover-grown with ferns, strewed between the tree-stems. Then all vegetation ceases, andsharp, bluish-grey stones, formed in a thousand curious shapes, are seen all around, andclose to the road itself. Poor shepherds and herdsmen, wretched peasants working in thescanty maize-fields, a swift horseman with a great cloak and his gun slanting across hissaddle, white, shaggy wolf-dogs, fierce and shy,—such are the only figures which animatethis dreary mountain-landscape. But by degrees the valley grows broader; rich olive plantations, and vineyardssurrounded by white walls, begin to be visible. Old wratch-towers, overgrown with ivyand wild vine, peep above tall maples. Troops of gaily costumed country folks are seenupon the roads, or climbing to the heights above by green mountain paths. Light two-wheeled vehicles roll past us. A pleas
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Keywords: ., bookauthorcavagnasangiulianidig, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870
