The country between Baccano and Rome is as unpleasing and even worse than
that between the former place and Ronciglione. It is hilly, but not a tree,
nor a house, nor a sign of cultivation to be seen except the two or three
wretched hovels at La Storta. There is nothing at all that announces the
approach to a capital city; and in addition to the dismal landscape there
is a sight still more dismal that salutes the eye of the traveller at
intervals of two or three miles and which does not tend to inspire pleasing
ideas; and this is the sight of arms and legs of malefactors and murderers
suspended on large poles on the road side; for it is the custom here to cut
off the arms and legs of murderers after decapitation, and to suspend them
_in terrorem_ on poles, erected on the very spot where they committed the
murder. The sight of these limbs dangling in the wind is not a very
comfortable one towards the close of the evening.
We left the _Sepolero di Nerone_, an ancient tomb so called, on the right
of our road and half a mile beyond it crossed the Tiber at the _Ponte Molle
(Pons Milvius)_, where there is a gate, bridge and military post.
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