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Of all beggars I think a little fellow, who rode beside our carriage on a
stick, his bare feet scampering merrily, while he managed his steed with
one hand, and held out the other for charity, howling piteously the
while, amused me most.

PASSIGNANO.

May 29th.--We left Perugia at about three o'clock to-day, and went down a
pretty steep descent; but I have no particular recollection of the road
till it again began to descend, before reaching the village of Magione.
We all, except my wife, walked up the long hill, while the vettura was
dragged after us with the aid of a yoke of oxen. Arriving first at the
village, I leaned over the wall to admire the beautiful paese ("le bel
piano," as a peasant called it, who made acquaintance with me) that lay
at the foot of the hill, so level, so bounded within moderate limits by a
frame of hills and ridges, that it looked like a green lake. In fact, I
think it was once a real lake, which made its escape from its bed, as I
have known some lakes to have done in America.


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