Ancona, 11 mo. 4.

We had much to do before we could meet with a suitable conveyance, and at length trusted ourselves with our Italian coachman, who could not speak French.  For a certain sum he was to give us three places in his coach, and provide us with food and lodging by the way.  The other passenger inside was an Englishman, who spoke very little French and no Italian, and another Englishman outside was in the same situation.  We could not but feel ourselves a very helpless company when arriving at the inns, which were quite of an inferior class, and little or no French spoken.  We did pretty well, however, till we got to Milan, where we rested some days; and our Englishmen were exchanged for an Italian priest who spoke no French, and a Swiss who was a little useful to us as far as Bologna; after this place we travelled five days alone.  The inns on this side of Milan are much worse, and from the detention of our passports in the towns we passed through, we were often prevented from reaching the place of destination, and obliged to lodge at villages, where we suffered much in the way of food and lodging; yet through all we were favored to bear the journey much better than I expected.  My J.Y. was rather poorly for two days, and I was extremely anxious about him; but the sight of the Gulf of Venice seemed to help to restore him.

At Sinigaglia, a town eighteen miles from this, they told us that we should just meet the vessel which was to sail on the 30th.  Judge then what was our disappointment when, on arriving at the inn here, we found that it was gone.

This disappointment was a severe trial of their patience; but they consoled themselves with reflecting that “good in some shape might arise out of the seeming evil.”

Ancona, says John Yeardley, is beautifully situated on the side of a high hill, in appearance at a distance a perfect model of Scarborough.  There are in the place a good many Greeks, one of whom Argyri recognised as we inquired at his shop the way to the Post-office.  On returning she made herself known to him, and he shows us every attention; he is a fine looking man, with a countenance as strong as brass.  We are comfortably lodged, with a delightful view of the harbor, but our hearts are in Corfu.

Our young companion, adds M.Y., is amiable and very quick, but not of much use to us respecting her native tongue, which she retains but very imperfectly, and is not at all fond of speaking it.

The houses are high, and many of the streets narrow and offensive, for want of cleanliness and from an immense population; such numbers are continually in the streets, that there is no quiet or good air in the town.  The darkness is extreme, and the dissipation apparently very great; the oppression of our spirits at some periods is almost insupportable; and yet I am at times very sensible of the calming influence of divine love, with a sense that, having acted to the best of our judgment, we must resign ourselves to wait for the return of the steam-packet from England.