l wife of whom he was jealous. He took her to
see the cascade, and when he got to this part (which is at the
end of a narrow path overhung with brushwood) he got rid of the
boys who always follow visitors, and after some delay returned
alone, and said the woman had fallen in. One scream had been
heard, but there was nobody to witness the truth. The mangled
body was found in the stream below. Jealousy is probably common
here. As I was walking a man passed me, going in great haste to
the mountain, but I paid no attention to him. When I got back I
heard that he was escaping from justice (into the Abruzzi,
which are in the Neapolitan dominions), having stabbed his
brother-in-law a few moments before out of jealousy of his wife.
The wounded man was still alive, but badly hurt. The murderer was
_un bravo mechanico_.

The mountain and the river have undergone many revolutions. The
rock through which the present path is cut has been formed
entirely by petrified deposits, and there are marks in various
parts of former cascades, from which the water has been turned
away. Clement VIII. (Aldobrandini) turned the water into its
present course. At the bottom the old outlet of the Romans is
dry, but is marked with that solidity which defies time, like all
their works of this kind. Great part of the road from Terni is
beautiful, and the Papal towns and villages appear to be in much
better condition than on the other road. Some of them perched on
the mountains are remarkably picturesque.

Bologna, June 14th, 1830 {p.402}

I went yesterday morning to Pratolino to see the statue of the
genius of the Apennines, by John of Bologna, six miles from
Florence. Pratolino was the favourite residence of the famous
Bianca Capello. The house has been pulled down. It is in a very
pretty English garden belonging to the Grand Duke, and, I think,
amazingly grand, but disgraced by presiding over a duck pond.
They told me that if he stood up (and he looks as if he could if
he would) he would be thirty _braccia_ in height. I went into his
head, and surveyed him on all sides. He ought to be placed over
some torrent, or on the side of a mountain; but as he is, from a
little distance (whence the ducks and their pond are not visible)
he is sublime. Myriads of fire-flies sparkled in every bush; they
are beautiful in a night journey, flitting about like meteors and
glittering like shooting stars.

[Page Head: MEZZOFANTI]

Dined with Lady Normanby at S