are interred, in the second
the women, and in the third the children.

A hall three miglia in length, resting on 640 columns, leads from
this cemetery to a little hill, surmounted by the church of the
Madonna di St. Luca, and from thence almost back into the town. The
church just mentioned contains a miraculous picture, namely, a true
likeness of the Virgin, painted by St. Luke after a vision. The
complexion of this picture is much darker than that of the commonest
women I have seen in Syria. But faith is every thing, and so I will
not doubt the authenticity of the picture. The prospect from the
mountains is exceedingly fine.

I returned in the evening completely exhausted, and half an hour
afterwards was already seated in the post-carriage to pursue my
journey to Ferrara.

On the whole the weather was unfavourable; it rained frequently, and
the roads were mostly very bad, particularly in the domains of the
Pope, where we stuck fast four or five times during the night. On
one occasion of this kind we were detained more than an hour, until
horses and oxen could be collected to drag us onwards. We were
twelve hours getting over these fifty-four miles, from six in the
evening till the same hour in the morning.

December 6th.

This morning I awoke at Ferrara, where the carriage was to be
changed once more. I availed myself of a few spare hours to view
the town, which, on the whole, rather resembles a German than an
Italian place. It has fine broad streets, nice houses, and few
arched ways in front of them. In the centre of the town stands a
strong castle, surrounded by fortifications; this was once the
residence of the bishop.

At nine o'clock we quitted this pretty town, and reached the Po an
hour afterwards. We were ferried across the stream; and now, after
a long absence, I once more stood on Austrian ground. We continued
our journey through a lovely plain to Rovigo, a place possessing no
object of interest. Here we stayed to dine, and afterwards passed
the Adige, a stream considerably smaller than the Po. The country
between Rovigo and Padua was hidden from us by an impenetrable fog,
which prevented our seeing fifty paces in advance. At six o'clock
in the evening we reached Padua, our resting-place for the night.

Early next morning I hastened onwards, for I had already seen Padua,
Venice, Trieste, etc. in the year 1840.

I reached my native town safely and in perfect health, and had the
happi