as the refuge
for the people of a lower town which had been made uninhabitable by
malaria. The new town, which I suppose is hundreds of years old, with
all its novelty shows strikingly the difference between places that grow
up and shape out their streets of their own accord, as it were, and one
that is built on a settled plan of malice aforethought. This little
rural village has gates of classic architecture, a spacious piazza, and a
great breadth of straight and rectangular streets, with houses of uniform
style, airy and wholesome looking to a degree seldom seen on the
Continent. Nevertheless, I must say that the town looked hatefully dull
and ridiculously prim, and, of the two, I had rather spend my life in
Radicofani. We drove through it, from gate to gate, without stopping,
and soon came to the brow of a hill, whence we beheld, right beneath us,
the beautiful lake of Bolsena; not exactly at our feet, however, for a
portion of level ground lay between, haunted by the pestilence which has
depopulated all these shores, and made the lake and its neighborhood a
solitude.
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