[…] As soon as it was possible next morning to get ready, I rode down to the plains through a most delightful country, which I cannot pretend to describe in a manner to do it justice. On every side, fruits and flowers rose in clusters, freshened by the morning air: the round heads of the orange-trees glowed with the rays of the sun that was just rising, and darting his beams along the surface of the sea: the whole neighbourhood was enlivened by crowds of men and women singing as they descended the hill to their daily labour. Every production here is in the highest perfection it can possibly attain when unassisted by art.