shadowy
forms of the past; the lark was silent in the sky; and on the desolate
bluffs and headlands, where once stood populous cities, were a few
hoary tombs whose very names had perished ages ago. But inexpressibly
sad as the landscape looked it was relieved by the grand background of
the Sabine range capped with snow. The village of La Storta, that
flourished in the old posting days, had fallen into decay when the
railway diverted the traffic from it; and its inn, with a rude model
of St. Peter's carved in wood projecting above its door, was silent
and deserted. Passing down a narrow glen, fringed with wood for three
miles from this point, we came in sight of the village of Isola. Its
situation is romantic, perched on the summit of a steep cliff, with
deep richly-wooded ravines around it, and long swelling downs rising
beyond. It is surrounded by two streams which unite and fall along
with the Formello into the river called La Valca, which has been
identified with the fatal Cremera that was dyed red with the blood of
the three hundred Fabii.

The rock of Isola is most interesting to the geologist, consisting of
large fragments of black pumice cemented together by volcanic ashes
deposited under water. It is literally a huge heap of cinders thrown
out by the rapidly intermittent action of some neighbouring volcano,
probably the crater of Baccano, or that which is now filled with the
blue waters of Lake Bracciano. The whole mass is very friable, and in
every direction the soft rock is hollowed out into sepulchral caves.
By many this isolated rock is considered the arx or citadel of Veii;
but the existence of so many sepulchral caves in it is, as Mr. Dennis
says, conclusive of the fact that it was the Necropolis of the ancient
city, which must therefore, according to Etruscan and Roman usage
regarding the interment of the dead, have been outside the walls. The
tombs have all been rifled and destroyed, and many of the sepulchral
caves have been turned to the basest uses for stalling goats and
cattle. An air of profound melancholy breathes around the whole spot.
It seems to be more connected with the dead than with the living
world. And the hamlet which now occupies the commanding site is of the
most wretched description. All its houses, which date from the
fifteenth century, are ruinous, and are among the worst in Italy; and
the baronial castle which crowns the highest point,--built nearly a
thousand years ago, the scene