Woods were
not wanting; wilder forests than I have seen since leaving America, of
oak-trees chiefly; and, among the green foliage, grew golden tufts of
broom, making a gay and lovely combination of hues. I must not forget to
mention the poppies, which burned like live coals along the wayside, and
lit up the landscape, even a single one of them, with wonderful effect.
At other points, we saw olive-trees, hiding their eccentricity of boughs
under thick masses of foliage of a livid tint, which is caused, I
believe, by their turning their reverse sides to the light and to the
spectator. Vines were abundant, but were of little account in the scene.
By and by we came in sight, of the high, flat table-land, on which stands
Civita Castellana, and beheld, straight downward, between us and the
town, a deep level valley with a river winding through it; it was the
valley of the Treja. A precipice, hundreds of feet in height, falls
perpendicularly upon the valley, from the site of Civita Castellana;
there is an equally abrupt one, probably, on the side from which we saw
it; and a modern road, skilfully constructed, goes winding down to the
stream, crosses it by a narrow stone bridge, and winds upward into the
town.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346