From
May 14th 1862
To
July 24th 1862


1
Biella May 16th
We left Turin about 2 oclock this afternoon and
came to this quaint old town at the foot of the mountains
by rail. It was a three hours journey only, but that was
time enough for an unfavorable change in the weather.
The thunder-shower which overtook us in the rail carriage
was over before we arrived at B. but the signs are 
not very propitious for the morrow. Donkeys and mules
too seem never to be used here for excursions which is a 
great disappointment to me.
Biella May 17,
We passed a very comfortable night in our inn, La Testa
Grigia, and though the weather looked a little doubtful 
we decided to venture an excursion to the Oropa to
pay our respects to one of St Luke's black virgins. This ugly
image the worthy rector assured us was brought to this 
place by St Eusebaus [Eusebius] in the fourth century. The drive 
was a very interesting one--a steady and sometimes
steep
ascent for nearly 3 hours, the last mile of the road
being thickly studded with chapels. There were also several
large hydropathic establishments at different elevations 
well supplied no doubt by the crystal mountain streams
gushing out everwhere from the rocks [illegible] .
The fields were most brightly green, with such quantities
of wild-flowers, some very beautiful. Vast meadows were 
almost literally covered with the Narcissus, so pure and
so sweet. The air was heavy with their rich odour.
The church which contains the shrine, is of very tittle [little]
interest, the buildings about it are of prodigious extent--


2 
the rector told us they frequently lodged three thousand pilgrims
at once. The pilgrims are nominally lodged gratis, though it 
is intimated that an offering is expected in proportion to the means 
of the pious visitor. The reverend father gave us an excellent 
cup of coffee, and the pictures in the room in which he recieved 
received us were interesting. The view of the plain below 
must have been 
be 
magnificent in fine weather - but unluckily 
the rain came on almost at the moment of our arrival 
and the clouds had greatly interfered with the prospect 
all the way. For some three hours we waited and 
then set out 
to return 
in the rain, after all. 
Sunday, May 18th 
We drove up to the old town this morning, which 
and found it commanded an immensely extensive prospect. 
The hill on which it stands entirely overlooks the newer 
town, and of in fact half Piedmont and Lombardy. We 
were taken to a palace which is now for sale. The first 
object which struck us on entering the grounds was a 
horse chesnut tree of magnificent proportions. As 
we drove under it and the carriage stopped, I could 
not help an exclamation of astonishment and delight. 
The huge branches of this giant-tree hung almost as 
pendant as those of the willow, and we seemed in 
the centre of some Gothic cathedral. I begged Mr M. 
to measure the diameter which he found to exceed four 
feet. The strap of our lorgnette measured the circumference 
only at three reprises - nearly thirteen and a half feet in all. 
We were both of us amazed at such a specimen of this 
species of tree. A second handsome iron gate lead into 
a fine garden in the midst of which was a pretty fountain with 


3
gold and silver fishes in numbers. On our right stood the palace
fronting
south
west and south
east
with stable and other out-buildings
on the north
west,
the whole stucture inclosing three sides of
a square. We entered the palace through the garden and court
and passed on to the front
from
which a boundless prospect
opened upon us. The hill drops off on both sides, that is
on the south west and south-east, in an irregular but rather
rapid slope, and this slope is clothed with larches
spruce trees, cypresses, oaks, pines, - in fact almost every
variety of three that this tree growing climate affords, and
all in the best possible condition. Even on this morning
of clouds we could see Novara and Vercelli and countless
other towns scattered over the immense, immense
plain below us which looked, toward the western and
southern horizon, like an ocean, the towers of the far,
far off towns appearing like just visible masts at sea.
We were told that in fine weather Milan might be
seen a few feet above where we were standing, and we
did not find this difficult to believe. The distance
of Milan from Biella is about
seventy
miles. We went
entirely over this palace, sometimes called Casa Belletti,
and found it contained twenty seven rooms suitable
for a family and its guests, besides abundant accommodations
for an army of servants. The kitchen, the larder, the
laundry were all good. There was stable room in
abundance. A corridor occupied the whole front below
the suite of rooms destined for use, and this corridor
which
was with
entirely enclosed, with plenty of windows, served
as a conservatory in winter. Lemon and orange trees
with their fruits and their flowers growing together stood in


rows outside this corridor, to be brought in again when a change of
season should make it necessary to shelter them. There
were still remaining in the house certain articles of furniture
such as chairs, sofas, bedding, bed curtains etc. The
latter - two sets at least - were of the richest crimson silk
damask of a quality which is no longer made. We
thought there was no doubt that a thousand dollars was
a moderate estimate for this furniture. I mention
all these details in order to give an idea of the value
of such property in Piedmont. This palace is within fifty
miles of Turin, with a rail road running directly to
the capital, there
are
at least seven acres of ground
belonging to it, it is in perfectly good condition, wanting
in no convenience, water, bath room etc., and it is
for sale. We were told by the old chatelain, who said
he had been fifty three years in the house, that thirly thousand
francs had been offered for it, but the Association to
which it had been bequeathed hoped to get five thousand
more for it. Thirty five thousand francs then, or seven
thousand dollars is the value of such a really seni-
orial estate. Oh, if there was a certainty that we
should remain where we are
for
four years, we should
not hesitate to buy it at once. Our house - rent
in Turin would pay for it - and then to have such a
home afterward! But, alas, there is Rome in doubtful
prospect - there is the uncertainty at affairs in our our
country! - I should add that Biella, which this palace
overlooks, is a manufacturing town containing ten
thousand inhabitants Woolen and cotten [cotton] cloths, paper
hats etc are made on a large scale.


Monday, May 19th
We drove this morning to Andorno, a large village
about an hour and a half from Biella, and here we saw
a curious scene. It was market-day and the village
was thronged, especially the principal square. In one
corner of this square, on some
a flight of
steps which led to some
public building, stood a man who was addressing the
multitude. His whole appearance was striking. A plain
black hat with a rather broad brim, a black frock coat
closely buttoned, on the breast of which hung a silver
cross suspended by a tricolored ribbon. His figure was
good, his gestures graceful, but very energetic - at times even
violent. Our Alexander ran to see, as he said, "if he is
talking against us" - meaning against the movement toward Rome.
He was soon satisfied. The speaker was Giuseppe Ambrogio,
a priest degraded for his heresies, and imprisoned, but released
by order of the government, and protected in his freedom
of speech by the new laws. He was thundering away
like a second Luther, and the applause of his
auditors showed that he was not laboring in vain.
A schism he boldly advocates if Rome will not
reform. God speed him & the like of him - he
will do more good than a thousand exotic missionaries.
I never longed so much to be an artist as on this
occasion. It would have made such a picture -
the man himself, who looked half apostolic, half defiant -
the great odd, old church a little behind him, and the
green hills that rose even above that - the painted saints 
in heaven, and souls in purgatory on his left hand, the 
Garibaldi caffe on his right - and then his motley audience


men & boys crowding the steps on which he stood, above him, below 
him & on every side, old women & young, some with the 
picturesque baskets of the country on their shoulders, some 
spinning, some knitting, some only listening--here an old
man tried to pacify his braying donkey with no other result
than a chorus from every brother-donkey in the market,
here an enterprising few tried to jostle up a little nearly
nearer
to the orator--and now a general shouting & clapping 
gives the breathless reformer time to wipe the perspiration 
from his forehead. We succeeded in getting one of the 
hand-bills he was distributing--see opposite page.
That Jesuits & the like of them are still powerful in Turin 
should not discourage us too much it seems.
Tuesday May 20th
Mr Marsh went to Turin last eve--& came back at 
five this afternoon. He felt a little anxious about his unfledged 
secretary, but found there had been nothing special to do.
He found Turin in some excitement from the late 
sad movement at Bergamo and Brescia. Every body is grieved 
to know that Garibaldi could have been so unwise. 
The dull weather reconciles me to a day of illness.
Wednesday May 21st
I was not able to go out, and, with the exception 
of an hour's walk, Mr Marsh read to me all day. 
After finishing Mr Botta's admirable sketch of Cavour 
he took up 'L'Italie est-elle la terre des morts,' by Marc Monier
I wish I could make the time & eye-sight to translate this 
faithful picture of Italy & the Italians & [?] bring it down 
two years later. It is just what English readers ought to 
know & generally do not know.


Thursday May 22nd
Mr Marsh paid a visit this morning to Monseigneur, the bishop,
who courteously sent the abbé ___ to us yesterday, with an apology
for not coming in person. He is in town only for a day, as
at this season he stays at his villa an hour or two out in
the valley. He has lived much in Syria, and frankly confessed
that when he had occasion to employ a trust-worthy agent there
he always looked out for a Mahomedan & not a christian.
Still clouds & illness each making the other of little consequence,
either circumstance rendering Alex__'s discovery of the fine
saddle-horse a futile thing - alas!
Friday May 23d
The weather was not promising but we risked a
drive to Cossato an hour & a half from Biella and lying
N.E. of it. We were not a little amused at reading on
a cornor by way of guide these words 'Da Biella alla
Svizzera.' On reaching Cossato, or rather on turning
after we had passed through the hamlet, we saw
that this was not the climax of the ludicrous. Here
was a large-lettered sign, 'Dalla Svizzera a Biella!'
The country through which we passed was fertile
& beautiful, with splendid villas on some of the
finest sites imaginable. The villa Colombiano, a
present to that family from the royal house of Piedmont,
is grand, and with magnificent grounds. The estates
of the Rosazzas are on the princely scale. The
walnut-trees are very stately & beautiful, but I was sorry
to learn that the devastating effect of the war of Southern
Barbarism against Northern Freedom was to be seen even
here. The glorious tress are wrought up by English contractors


into gunstocks for our Government. Mr Scott, one of the contractors,
told Mr Marsh it gave him real pain to see them fall.
Another thing troubled me - the unskillful mode of cultivating
Indian corn. The earth is heaped up in ridges - this may be
important to drain the soil - and these ridges, two feet wide with a
foot between and at least a foot hight, are sowed with corn. When
it first comes up the shoots are very thick, but when weeded,
which is done by hand, it is thinned out considerably. There is
in this way, and a great waste of the seed-corn, and the
labor of cultivation is immense. Then as to results, Mr Marsh
was told by an intelligent gentleman here that the ordinary
produce of an acre was about sixteen bushels - I translate
of course from giornate & kilograms and the like, but this
is the English of it. This would be thought bad farming with
us.
Sat May 24th
Disappointed this morning for the third time in not getting
our letters by a sort of Express which would meet small
encouragement among Yankees unless it quickened its pace,
we concluded to drive towards Graglia, though the clouds
gave little promise of allowing us to see much towards the
mountains. We were well paid for the attempt, for though
we did not think it worth while to go half the distance
to the sanctuary - reserving that for better skies - we saw
enough to convince us that the views from this hill far
exceed those on the Oropa slope. But of this when seen
more satisfactorily. - Father Ambrogio, whom we heard at
Andorno the other day, passed our window twice yesterday.
The servants of the hotel say that about fifteen days ago he was
arrested by order of the bishop & carried to prison hand-cuffed
and escorted by four gendarmes. He was soon released - they say by order


of the king, which of course means by the authorities that have jurisdic-
tion of such matters - and now he uses his liberty with some
boldness, as we can witness. They say 'he was a good priest, very
liberal etc', and the bad priests persecuted him for his pat-
riotism till they drove him into heresy! They evidently think him
perfectly right as far as they understand him, but they believe there
must be something very wrong which they do not understand since
he does not deny that he is a Protestant - and this with them
is a fearful name to apply to an Italian though they seem to
have an idea that a foreigner may be a Protestant without
being a malefactor. I hope we may get a chance to
say a word to this poor man before we go away.
Sunday May 25
Bioglio was the point for which we set out
this morning. The way lay for the first hour in the direction
of Cossato - then we turned to the left & ascended a little, but
the situation was less beautiful or the clouds more
unfavorable than usual here, for we did not get so
fine a view as we generally have done. On our return
however we went over all manner of byeways and
had some wonderfully fine glimpses of this boundless
plain.
Monday May 26th
Having observed almost every day since we came 
here that the early morning was the clearest hour in the day, we
were called at 1/2 past 2, and set out at three for Graglia. It
was still dark, and as far as we could judge very cloudy.
We reached the Monastery at 1/2 past 5. The heavy rolling vapours
were playing the most fantastic tricks - now hiding [illegible] completely
the heavens & now the earth, now lifting their dark curtains and
letting us see for a moment the whole of the vast plain from Turin


to
Milan, studded thick with cities towns villages & hamlets, the largest a
mere speck on a sea of emerald - and now showing through
some ragged rent the higher clouds which which were fiery
with the sun-rise - I have never seen finer effects from
a thick morning mist. But though the wind occasionally
drove the fog far away from us still the horizon was never
quite clear, and after waiting several hours we returned to
Biella greatly impressed with what we had seen, but with a
conviction that we even yet only half appreciated the
wonders of Graglia. The monastery itself looked far
more comfortable and clean than that in Oropa, and
we concluded that a month might be spent there
very delightfully. We did not ascend to the Sanctuaries
as we could have had no better view there in such
weather. Mr Marsh went down to Turin tonight hoping
to be able to return in the morning.
Tuesday May 27th
I rose at five, and finding it a
very bright morning, took Alexander and Giachino as com-
-pagnions for a ride. We intended to return at 9 for
breakfast but found the temptation to scramble a
little higher and a little higher up the hills alto-
-gether too irresistable. On and on we went till it seemed
to me that the whole world was at my feet. West, south
and east there seemed no limit to the horizon. The
best point of view was from a large villa at the en-
-trance of the village of Pettinengo. Had this been
my first view of Piedmont and Lombardy I sould have
suspected myself to be in an opium dream. I


At Pettinengo, where we were detained a
half hour by the turning of my saddle, I
was fortunate enough to stumble again on
the heroic Father Ambrogio. I was almost
afraid to speak to him for fear of compromising
the Minister of the United States, as a crowd
gathered around us in a moment. Summoning
my courage, however, I told him we had heard
a part of his sermon the other day at Andorno,
and were much interested; that I wished to
know something more of him - whether
his religious opinions were the result of his
own convictions, or whether he had adopted
them in Switzerland, etc. He told me he
had become convinced of the great need of 
reform in his own Church and that he had
made use of the time of his banishment "to
study religion in England." He told me also
that he had rooms in Beilla, but that he spent
his time in preaching and distributing handbills
through all the villages in that part of the country.
"C'est mon désir d'imiter autant que possible les
apôtres." The poor man looked worn in every sense
and I longed to give him a Napoleon, 'but I feared
the people,' and thought it better to do it later on
the sly. If we should once be suspected of a wish
to interfere with religious matters here we should
soon have no influence of any kind.


returned to mine host for a twelve o'clock breakfast.
Before I had finished my cup of tea a telegram
Le signore sono arrivate - bisogna tonare, hur-
-ried us back to Turin, where we arrived safely, at
five. Miss Estcourt and Miss Carew were at Trom-
-betta's expecting Lady Estcourt tomorrow. Miss 
Arbesser caught sight of me on the balcony and
came up to inquire for me, but made a short visit
compassionating my great fatigue.
Wednesday May 28th
We had a very busy morning
putting up curtains, etc, and getting the 
Casa d'Angennes into its summer toilette
At 3 at 8 and 9 P.M. we sent the carriage
for Lady Estcourt who did not arrive much to
the disappointment of her sisters and ourselves.
Dear Miss Estcourt is as good as ever - a little
less lively, certainly, but the same noble character.
Miss Carew is in many things much like her
sister, and I could give her no higher praise.
Thursday May 29th
We took a long drive after dinner
as we did last evening and sent for Lady Estcourt
again at 9. She, however, came in the 8 o'clock
slow train to prevent me, as she said from being
kept up an hour too late, and having gone first
to Trombetta's, the carriage missed her altogether,
she coming in five minutes after it had driven


away for her. What a melancholly pleasure
to see that beloved face once more. She
is changed, truly, but less so than I feared. The
lines of sorrow are indeed there but so softened
by the sweetest expression of patience that she
looks more lovely than I ever saw her before.
Friday 30 29th
Mr Marsh and Lady Estcourt spent
the morning together looking over letters, journals,
etc of General Estcourt. I felt she would be more
at ease with one, than two, and so remained
in the drawing room and saved them as much
as possible from interruptions. The sisters dined
with us as we hope they will every day while
they are here. An evening drive and a cup of
tea closed this first day of our meeting after eight
years of separation during which, for one of us at least,
the best blessing of life has been taken away.
Saturday 31st
The journal and letters of our lost
friend occupied a long morning again for Mr Marsh
and Lady Estcourt while Miss Carew read for me.
Miss Arbesser spent the evening with us, and
entertained my guests not a little with certain
pictures of the Italian court in 1862. Among other
things she stated that she had a visit the day
before from the Marchesa Arconati and the
Countess Litta, both Milanese, the former


now a resident of Turin, the latter a visitor
in the capital. While these ladies were with
her Madame F__, the daughter of the renowned
Pasta was announced. Poor Miss Arbesser was
obliged to ask her highborn guests into an ad-
-joining drawing room into which she herself followed
them and then told the servant to ask Madam
F__ to wait a few moments in the first drawing-
room as she was just then engaged. "I do not suppose"
said Miss A__.  "that these ladies would have cared
a rush if I had received Madam F__. in the
same room with them as they are both sensible
persons and Madam F__. is irreprochable of
any fault except that of not being nobly born -
nor would the Duchess herself have cared, but
there are certain courtiers who would have made
one very uncomfortable for such a breach of etiquette.
I should have said that our English friends
were much pleased to have the opportunity of
seeing Poerio yesterday; he came with Pulszky
and we had a very nice easy chat. Pulszky gave
an interesting account of the new school at Naples
and the still newer one about to be established
in Calabria. Madame Confalonieri was also
with us.
Sunday June 1st
A heavy rain this morning obliged
the kink king to postpone the review which


we were to see from the Princess Marguerite's
rooms. The weather was better in the evening
but still interfered with the illumination
which was less brilliant than it would otherwise
have been. It seems unfortunate that after having
changed the day of the celebration of the statuto
from May till June in order to be sure of fine weather,
it should turn out so badly.
Monday June 2nd
Another rainy morning and
another postponement of the Review. The
message brought was. "There will be now review,
and the King is very cross." Even Miss Arbesser
writes "S.M. is in the worst of humors" In fact the
very heavens seem opened, and the fireworks, the
great electric light, etc. are all put out, for tonight 
at least, and Madame de Lima's balconies where
we were all to have gone will be tenantless.
Tuesday 3rd
Today we experienced one of those
strange coincidences which so often surprise us
in this life. Both Lady and Miss Estcourt had
often spoken to us with much feeling of the
care which Colonel Gowan had bestowed
on the graves of officers who fell at Sebastopol [Sevastopol],
and had expressed the strongest wish to see
him - They had written to beg him and his family
to come to their house in London when they should


leave Sebastopol for America. Only this
morning they were speaking of him and the
generous devotion he had shown, still supposing
him at S__. Half an hour afterwards and this
same Colonel Gowan was in Mr Marsh's cabi-
-net. When the latter came out and told us
we were too much surprised to understand what
he said, and when at last we were convinced
Miss Carew said "Why this is just like a bad
novel!" The Gowans dined with us and it was
a great comfort to the Estcourts to see and talk
with them. Mrs Gowan gave us an interesting
account of the circumstances which led them to
care for these graves and the whole story does
great credit to the hearts of this generous
pair. The King of Italy sent Mr Gowan the
Order of S.M. et. S.L. as a compliment for
what he had done to preserve the monuments
of the Italians who perished in the Crimea.
Wednesday June 4th
Our guests paid a few visits this morning
& the Marquesa Arconati spent an hour with
me during their absence. She was enthusiastic in
her admiration of Egypt, and her winter there will
be full of golden memories for the evening of her life.
She promises to sift Turin society a little for me &
I shall be grateful to her.
Thursday, June 5
Between the necessary preparations for the departure
of our guests & for my own journey to Florence & visitors more


numerous than at any time since last winter, it has been a
day of confusion. The debates in the Chambers are much
talked of - but whether the ministry will stand or fall
no one dares predict.
Thursday
Friday
6th June.
We drove to the station a little before
9 leaving the Estcourts behind to take the morning
train for Milan. Alexander was fortunate enough
to secure a
railway
carriage quite for us two alone, and
Giachino and I managed to sleep a good deal
during the night. I must confess that, when I saw
distinct traces of coming daylight at 2 1/2 A.M. and 
remembered at what hour I usually rose, I was
not a little shocked and mortified. My conscience
was only quieted by the recollection that one half
at least of the time when I really pretended to be
up had to be given to rest, and that rising earlier
would, after all, be no gain for me.
Saturday June 7th
We took our places in the post carriage
of the Courier at Bologna about half past five,
but found that the carriage, which was only to
have had two seats taken for my maid and me
and my maid had quattro posti, and we were
to have the company of the Courier himself and
another person already installed on the back seat.
My first survey of this person led me to conclude
that she was a lady. The propriety and good
taste of her dress were remarkable. She seemed to


be a woman of about forty - still handsome.
There was something however in her manner
towards the 'Signor corriere', as she always called
him, that puzzled me. He was a good natured
but by no means refined person and I could not
understand how a lady could condescend to exchange
merry banterings with a stranger in his position.
I studied the two in silence for a couple of hours,
growing more and more at a loss what to make of
my companion. The terms of perfect equality on
which she placed herself in her conversation with
the courier seemed utterly irreconcilable with a
certain highbred air which appeared in her dress 
and in her manner otherwise. An accident broke
the silence between us. I saw the postillion
performing some odd somersets in the air - the
leader on which he was riding had fallen to the 
ground, the wheelhorses ran over him and so we
were going rapidly down hill it was quite a wonder
that the carriage and all its occupants were not
rolled headlong after. The scarpa however and
the poor beast who helped block the wheels saved us,
and at last even the fallen horse was got upon
his feet again without injury. The excitement con-
-sequent on the accident had caused some hurried
conversation between me and the lady who seemed
delighted to find that I could speak a few words of
Italian. In a few minutes I knew half her history


Learning that I had passed the winter in Turin,
she enquired for the Mattiuccis, the Peruzzis
etc. and being told that I actually knew them
her enthusiasm was amusing. Conosce Ubaldino
ed Emilia! Conosce Matteucci et Robinia! and
she clapped her hands with pleasure. She then
gave me her name - "Signora Rignola - sono
vedova - ah si!" and she dashed the tear from
her eye which had gathered there before the smile
from her lips had passed away. We talked a
good deal after this and she interested me
extremely. The sudden transitions from gaity to
sadness were really wonderful. She would talk of
her delight at the thought of getting home to see
her baby grandchild, describe its pretty ways, laugh
over its imperfect efforts to speak and the next instant
sign and shudder as she said "but I shall not find
him who would have been better than all." She
told me that her husband had been dead seven
years. I am glad I now know the Italian character
well enough to understand this woman - glad I
have learned that to feel differently from us does
not necessarily imply, feeling less. I was truly
sorry to part from this interesting woman who had
furnished me amusement all the way.
The country was far more beautiful that we
found it last autumn after the severe summer
draughts [droughts]. The whole surface of the ground seemed


literally covered with flowers, and half our way
lay between hedges of wild rose loaded with blossoms
whose very faint odour made the air delicious
There was not a particle of dust and we reached
Florence soon after four without excessive fatigue.
Sunday June 8th
I sent for Carrie this morning and
we passed the day in an exchange of the experiences
of the last six weeks. The Powers's came in towards
evening and we talked politics and settled that the
bust should be begun in the morning.
Monday June 9th
I sat with Powers two hours this
morning watching, I believe his manipulations of 
the clay with more interest that he studied the
lines of my face. What a marvellous art! In the
evening I returned to the Powerses to meet the
Moravian sisters with whom Carrie is at school,
and who were to take tea there. I talked only
with Soeur Clara who is very pleasing and well
educated. I was interested to learn that she had
been some years in Smyrna and had taught the
little Hamlins. We were all out of spirits from the
news of Banks's defeat
Tuesday June 10th
Mr Powers makes the sittings very
pleasant by his original and agreeable conver-
-sation, and as he only wants me two hours a day


I am likely to get a good deal of rest. The Browns,
who came in yesterday, are, as far as I know, my
only acquaintances here - at any rate I shall take
it for granted that all the rest are in the country.
Wednesday June 11th
Mr Brown came into the studio
with better news from America which made even
the poor brown clay which Mr Powers was fingering
smile radiantly. I think the work will turn out
the better for it. I took Florence Powers and Carrie
to the Cascine this evening and then through the
principle streets. Every fresh sight of this wonderful
city fills me with increasing admiration.
Thursday June 12th
As Mr Powers proceeds I finding myself
growing nervously anxious. If Mr Marsh can only be
pleased, every wish I have on the subject will be
gratified, but hitherto he has been so hard to please
that I am afraid even this will seem to him a
failure. At any rate I am sure the fault will
be in him and not in the artist.
Friday June 13th
Mr Powers told me frankly this
morning that he found it much more difficult
to satisfy himself in this [illegible]
bust
than he had
anticipated - that he should be obliged to ask me
for more time etc, etc. The principle difficulty
he says, is in the variety of expression about the


mouth, which changes every moment. When
he has taken one he sees another which, for
some reason, he prefers - it is gone before he
can catch it and there is another and another,
till he feels puzzled and is obliged to rest, by
working on some other part of the face - then
he begins the mouth afresh, and so he has done
it over many times, and still is not satisfied.
I feel what the difficulty is; my mouth has a
compressed and not pleasing expression, when
entirely at rest. This he wishes to avoid, and
finds it difficult to choose or to seize the ex-
-pression he would like when
the muscles
it are in play.
Saturday 14th
As Mr Powers wished to work for
one day quite from memory I was very glad to
lounge all day on my sofa at the Grande Bretagne
I was delighted to see the Greys of New York, who
greatly comforted me on the subject of our own
national difficulties.
Sunday 15th.
I was waked about half past two, this
morning by a harp and violin. I never heard such
music before. There were occasionally a voice few notes
by a very sweet woman's - voice, but the instruments
themselves seemed to me to be endowed with
some magical power. There was a very large com-
-pany of noisy Bacchanals about the performers


but while they played, no one moved or spoke.
I did not know that I was capable of feeling
music in this way, but it was delightful,
even to pain. Carrie has spent most of the
day with me and fortuantely for me, brought
up my poor broken journal to the actual day.
June 16th Monday
During the two hours sitting this morning we discussed
the natural & the spiritual, the seen & the unseen
until both artist & subject had well nigh forgotten the
work on hand. I certainly never have seen a more
remarkable union of childlike simplicity & intellectual
power than one meets in Mr Powers. Had circumstances
in life favored his development in the same preparation
as nature endowed him above most men he
would have had few rivals & no masters in his day.
He gave me a most curious account of the recent
discovery of the skeleton of a man lately found in
some part of Germany, which he learned from Sir 
Charles Lyell yesterday. The skeleton is above the
usual human size & though indisputably human
still approaches very much nearer the monkey
type than does any other species of the genus homo.
The head is set on the shoulders in the most
animal-like way. If there is no mistake as to
the facts in the case the discovery will be a
confirmation strong as Holy Writ to the
Vestige theorist.


Tuesday June 17th
I felt so weak & ill this morning that it required all my
resolution backed up by a glass of Port wine to brace me up
to the effort of going to Mr Powers this morning at twelve.
As I gave a glance at my mirror on leaving my
room
and noticed the dark sunken shadows under the eyes, [tear in page]
the pale hollow cheeks, not to speak of certain lines traced
by the enemy's hand - all of which a night of wakefulness
and pain had brought into fullest evidence - my vanity
whispered, "This should have been done a quarter of a cen-
tury earlier!" I was scarcely in my chair however before
every thing else was forgotten in the discussion of that
future which alone gives importance to this present.
Mr Powers certainly makes no pretension to a metaphysical
training, but his remarks of on the Spiritual are
not the less fresh and original on that account.
Wednesday June 18th
Just off after I left the studio this morning
Mr Brown brought news from America to the 7th inst
all very good.
Thursday June 19th.  Another hour or two with Powers
to-day, and then I was told the rest could be done without
me. In fact he says I should only hinder him by a longer
stay, as I tempt him to perpetual changes whenever we are
talking together. I drove home - hotels are as much homes to us
now as any place - told G. to pack up our sieben sachen
and prepare for leaving this city of enchantment in the morning,
took dinner, and then left a few cards, said good bye to the sisters
C.s school, spent a few minutes with Mrs P. & children
and went back to the hotel just in time not to miss good


honest Mr Hart. He had only heard of my being in Florence that
afternoon, and I confess my conscience smote me when he reminded
me how often he had begged "for the honour of doing your bust." I had
utterly forgotten that he had done so, but remembered it when he
attended to it. I had certainly rather go down to my little great-grand nephews &
neices through Mr P. though I doubt not Mr Hart would have made
an excellent portrait, and I am pained to have disappointed him
though there was certain surely no promise on my part.
Friday June 20th
Carrie & I hurried off this morning to take one turn through
S. Croce to bow
once more
before some of Italy's mightiest dead, and had time
beside to drive twice steady slowly round the Duomo, Campanile
and Baptistry - a trio that can take no adjective without loss.
Our way to Pietra Santa was through Pistoia & Lucca - a far more
beautiful country than one passes by the more direct route.
One is almost oppressed by the luxuriance of some districts. The
earth seems yielding triple quadruple harvests at once. The wheat
sheaves were leaning against the Indian corn above which rose
the vines, and above these again the fig-tree & the olive - all so
blended in a whirl by the flying train that each & all appeared to
grow from the same roots. Thousands of peasants - men, women & children
were at work in the fields, the bright colors they wore making
them look as gay as the corn-flowers which were flaming beside them.
Saturday June 21st
We left Pietra-Santa at half past eight
P.M. with the courier for Genoa. It was still early twi-
-light when we drove out of the little town - much larger
though then when I first knew it twelve years ago - and as
we passed into the shadow of the olives a strange feeling


of sadness, half memory, half imagination, came over me.
Twelve years ago I had passed through these wide wide olive
fields almost at this very same hour. Mr Marsh was then with
me, our George and several other lively friends. Now I was
here again and my companions of that day were hundreds, most
of them thousands, of mile from me. I could not help thinking
what effect it would have had upon me then, had I been
told prophetically that twelve years later I should be
travelling through those same grey olive groves unattended by
even a single one of that happy company. I should have supposed
certainly that Time alone could not have effected such a change
in my surroundings and that Death, too, must have been
busy. But my heart rose in gratitude to Him who had spared
all these friends, though none of them were now at any side,
and I said "How well it is that we cannot get a glimpse,
perfect or imperfect, into the mysterious Future.
A little circumstance which occurred just as we were
leaving Pietra Santa had contributed to make me feel a
little sad. As I was going to step into the post
carriage a gentleman of most prepossessing appearance
spoke to me in a very respectful way, said it was 
most important for him to reach Genoa as soon as possible,
that he knew I had taken the three seats etc., but he had
thought it possible that I might be willing to take
my maid into the body of the carriage with one and
give him the outside seat with the courier. My maid
however was not disposed to trust me with the answer.
With a rudeness I have never before know her guilty of


While we were waiting for the courier at Pietra Santa,
Carrie went out with Giachino for a little run, They saw
some women washing superintended by one who semed to
be in more easy circumstances. She asked the two if they
were forestiere, and on being answered in the affirmative,
she expressed much satisfaction. She then commenced an
amusing autobiography, told them that she was a
married woman, that, six years ago, her husband got
up in the night and said to her, "Aspettami," - that he
set off immediately for England to make his fortune, that
she had heard he was in Birmingham, that he never
wrote to her, that she didnot know what to do, whether
it was best to wait longer for him or to take another
husband, etc, etc. Carrie describes the whole account
as being in the highest degree amusing though there was
evidently more of the serious than the comic in the mind
of the narrator. If she didn't lay the loss of the husband
much to heart, she was at least suffering from embarrassment
as to how she should decide her future course.


she took it upon herself to decide the question. She told
the gentleman that it was not possible for three persons
to sit for so many hours on the single seat in
side
the carriage
intended only for two etc, etc. I had had no time to
think, and after taking my seat, waited a moment for
my irritation with Giachino to subside, and then beck-
-oned the gentleman to come and speak with me, the
maid in the mean time having sprung up to her place
with the courier. I explained to the stranger the very
delicate state of my own health and assured him that
it was not the
fear of a
mere temporary inconvenience, but the almost
certainty that I could not possibly bear the journey in a
position so erect and so confined as would be necessary
if three persons were to attempt to sit together in so small
a space. He was evidently much disappointed, but did
not in the least press the [illegible] subject. "Sarebbe stata
una fortuna per me; but," continued he "I see perfectly
that it would not do, and I am only sorry to have given
you the trouble of thinking about it." There was something
so well-bred, so manly, and at the same time so gentle
in the address of this man that I was doubly grieved at
not being able to oblige him. I would have risked trying
to take the maid with us if we could have had a
spare ten minutes in which to shed our crinolines, but there
was not a moment - the courier dashed off - the poor
stranger was left behind with his disappointment, and
I was whirled away with a pang at my heart for having
been, or having seemed to be, disobliging. The long weary


eighteen hours drive which followed without leaving the
carriage for a moment showed me that I could not
have borne it under less favorable circumstances, but
did not reconcile me to the inconvenience that my
fellow traveller might have suffered from being detained
at Pietra Santa. We lost much of the country during
the night hours, and the ocean
sea
at Spezia was rather
smelled than seen by us,
([illegible] moon reflected in the water)
as we arrived there about
one o'clock. After daylight we were soon once more
upon the shore and we enjoyed the remainder of the
journey to Genoa as much as mortals as tired can enjoy
anything. Every body knows this road and I would only
say of it "let him who has seen it in winter , go over it
in summer, he who has first been
there
in summer should
not fail to see it in winter! We had time to dine in
Genoa and take the five o'clock train for Turin, where
we arrived safely a little before ten and found Mr Marsh
and household well and apparently not sorry to welcome us.
Sunday June 22nd
With the exception of the hour Mr M. spent in
church it required the whole day to post each other up
as to our mutual experiences during the last fifteen
days & we were both glad of a long night's rest. I
had a couple of hours advantage of Mr M - who went to
the Pulszsky's [Pulszky's] and returned at eleven. He found some
intelligent people there - among them the Duchess Bevilaqua
de la Masa whom I have been wishing to have him meet
all winter. Several members of parliament - sensible men -
were there.


We were not a little amused this morning by a
religious procession in honor of St John Baptist. Were
Hundreds of girls in white, crowned with flowers
&
chanting
as they walked on, were followed by a most comic little urchin
of five or six years old, with a bit of sheep-skin still covered with
wool around his wait, and his breast, arms & legs bare. He
carried an Agnus Dei, and the poor little creature looked from
side to side in such a timid, almost frightened way, that one
almost forgot to laugh at what would otherwise have
been so ludicrous. A little Mary Magdelen of nine or ten
followed him, dressed in a short black petticoat & carrying a
crucific on a black velvet cushion. Her hair hung
long & loose about her shoulders & she seemed very 
penitent certainly!


Monday June 23.
We worked hard at letters, notes etc all day
and went out in the carriage for a little change in
the evening. - The rumor that Rattazzi has made an offer
of troops to the F. E. to aid him in his Mexican projects
makes some stir.
Tuesday June 24th
Mr & Mrs Valerio of N. Y. came this morning
to say that they were to leave Turin this eve - to be absent
a month. I am sorry, for I wished to have them dine
with us before they left. Mr V. is much like his brother the Pref.
of Como, & Madame is a fine specimen of an American woman
who dares think her own thoughts & do her own deeds, without
too much fear of the world, & yet not, I should think, disposed
to outrage the opinions or even prejudices of others without need.
We missed the Gerbino to-lastnight through a misunderstanding
of arrangements with Mr Artoni, but to-night we carried
out our Wednesday June 25th # project. Shakespeare was the
title of the play - comedy [illegible] indeed, though
not intended for such. The Mees was irristible irrisistible.
Such an Elizabeth would have astonished the Europe
of her day I fancy, & the Me Lordos were not less extraor-
dinary. But Vilelm was the most remarkable of the
dramatis persona. Any attempt to descride him would
be idle & I record
this
only as a means of calling up
a laughter-moving spectacle to my mind.
Wednesday June 25th
The Marchesa Arconati spent an hour with me
this morning. I cannot fancy a more charming old lady. She is


full of interest in every thing interesting - dignified without stiffness,
enthusiastic without affection, calm without coldness. She gave
me a hearty invitation to her villa on Como. The Browns
came later. Mr Marsh dined at the Turkish Ministers
where the guests had been asked to come in uniform - an
unnecessary and unusual formality which made the forty
gentlemen present all utter small imprecations upon
their pretentious host. Poor Rustem lost the
more
good-will
than his fine wines & choice dishes brought him in.
As most of the diners wished to go to the Convegno
dei Deputati, after leaving the table they were obliged to
hurry home, take off their toggery, put on a black suit and
hasten to the Convegno which had already been forsaken by
most of the Senators & Members. C. & I enjoyed a drive
in the twilight which was lighted up by gorgeous sun-set
clouds. - Mr Marsh says Valerio's scheme for a line
of steamers from Genoa to N. York will not meet with any 
favor just yet. The great Irrigation [illegible] project is
now occupying much attention. The value of the land
to be irrigated is expected to be increased by at least
20 dollars per acre. The waters of the Po are to be
taken out at Chivasso and returned at __
Thursday 26th June
Young Mr Jones of Florence spent a very long
morning with us - intelligent but dreamy. The Monnets
also made us one of their welcome visits. Mrs Tottenham
gave a lively picture of some of their experiences in the
way of applicants for charity. She knows a good deal
of Father Ambrogio whom we saw at Biella - says he is
a good man & an able one but impracticable & imprudent


to the last degree. She thinks however that he may do be
useful in waking up the people to examine into religious matters
and believes that the Methodists are employing him and
that they keep him from want.
Friday June 27th
The Pulszkys told us this morning something
of the gossip of the day about our political affairs which
serves to show how little Europe understands us. Many
who think themselves statesmen believe that as soon as the F.
Emperor thinks the South sufficiently desperate to accept any
terms he will propose to acknowledge their independence on
condition that they establish a monarchy and put an English prince
on the throne. In this way he expects to get the Rhine Provinces. By
putting the archduke Max__ on the throne of Mexico he will get
Venetia. And European politicians suppose the United States
would brook such an arrangement as this! Certainly we do not
want Mexico - nor do we want a Hapsburg there - but least
of all do
would
we suffer an Englishman to wear a crown on
our side of the Atlantic - in our own territory forsooth!
Why we should fight as long as there was a drop of
blood left to flow, if that were necessary. But
Our
women alone
would not fear to undertake to drive the intruders into
the Gulf of Mexico - and they would do it too.
Mad. Pulszky is as busy as ever about her schools and
other benevolent projects - in fact I cannot understand how
she manages with all her family-duties to accomplish so
much for general objects. The little creature seems made
iron - never tires, - mind nor body. It gives one new life
to see her. Mr Marsh went to congratulate grand old
Plana this morning on some important, mathematical


calculation which he has just successfully completed, the old
astronomer is mad, not from want of devotion but from
the excess of his joy & triumph. I am scarcely less delighted
than he is, though I have not yet heard what it is that
he has done & probably should not understand it if I were
to be told. While he - Mr Marsh - was out, he benevolently dropped
in a moment to see the poor old Countess Marini whom
every body slights. She tries my patience with her everlasting
haute société, but I pity her old age destitute of any ration-
al tasks and full of pain & weakness
June 28th Sat
We left Turin this morning about ten A.M. taking a car-
riage & horses from Borgo who condescendingly came in person to
see to our outfit. The day was delicious in temerature but
the Alps were not clear. We went out through the Piazza
Milano and the road lay through the plain to the N. W.
for the first three hours. After we had reposed at Rivarolo,
2 hours nominally but really three, we went on to Pont.
The latter part of the day's journey was much more interes-
ting than the first, though even after we began to ascend the
slopes leading up to the Val d'Orco, the land was not rich
and 
nor
well cultivated. The noble tower at Valperga however
is alone worth a day's pilgrimage. I know nothing of it except
what 'he who runs may read'. It is of brick, very lofty, but
not very old, and designed by a man whose name should
be immortal though I am ignorant of it. I have never before
seen any thing of the kind in brick so imposing. We passed several
large villas & castles belonging distinguised Piedmontese families, but
none remarkable for great beauty of position or for their grounds
or for their architecture. The quaint old tower of Cuorgné was


worth seeing, and our clever coachman tried to make us spend
the night there on the assurance that we should not be able
to find comfortable lodgings there. But we, who believed in Murray,
persisted in going on to Pont where the oracle of travellers had
told us we should find the 'Valentino tolerable.' The town is
very picturesque in its location & surroundings and we were
rejoicing in our firmness when Alex. came out of the little inn
with any thing but an encouraging face. He begged the
gentleman would just step in & look at the rooms before the
ladies left the carriage! Mr M. soon returned with a re-
assuring smile, "Jump, out,"
said he,
"I have seen you stand worse things
than this". We passed through all that one must pass through
before getting to the chambers of an Italian house of the poorer
class, and were at last in
the
rooms where we were to sleep. Yes
I had certainly been in worse, but it was truer still that
I had been in better. On the whole the prospect was not [illegible]
brilliant. Still there was good will. The mistress did her best
to give us a dinner, fresh sheets & towels came at a call, and some
sort of substitute for every necessity was found except something
in which to make the tea we had brought with us. Our good
hostess had never even heard of tea & the curious wonder with
which she examined the herb amused us not a little. Alex at
last found, in some shop, a black earthen pitcher which did
marvellously well for the making, but to get the precious liquid
out afterwards was a pob problem. Every time one of the Lilliputian
coffee-cups was filled as large a quantity was shed on the table-
cloth. Tea over we shut our eyes as much as possible to our
surroundings & went to bed tired enough to sleep we hoped. Alas
for human calculation. We were in our first doze when Alexander's
excited voice in the passage told that something had gone amiss. He


talking to the padrone. "Is it a Christian or a beast that you
have put in the room next to me!" said the indignant courier.
The poor padrone answered deprecatingly, "Do have patience
Signore! it is a priest." "Dio mio! I knew it was no Christian!
but, tell me, is he mad!" "No Signore, he is only drunk!" I 
heard no more of the colloquy, but knowing A's respect for
priests to be small I had little doubt his reverence would get
the benefit of a cold bath unless the more prudent Giachino
interfered. Now came our turn. Our bed was by no means of a
kind to serve as a lullaby to persons once waked, the street was
full of strange noises, the dogs howled like wild beasts - we could
not
have the satisfaction of hitting them with the fragments of a plate
broken by the child-housemaid who
had
helped serve us a dinner, though
Mr M. showed abundant zeal to do so, and on the whole
day-light was a joyful sight to us all. The servants had fared the
worst certainly. The brute of a priest, who was in the room next them,
what with his crazy declamation, his thumping on the wall
& his swinish snoring, never gave them a moment's quiet. We
gladly set off for Ivrea, and did not feel quite disposed to subscribe
to Murray's account of Pont - particularly after a walk up
the Val d'Orca & the Val Soanna had satisfied Mr Marsh
that the snow-peaks described in this Modern Englishman's Bible
were myths - and observation confirmed by the 'oldest inhabitant'
of Pont who had never seen any snow-peaks except in mid-winter.
The drive to Ivrea - Sunday 29th June - was pretty, skirting
the fertile mountain slopes. Ivrea was not new to us, but it
looked even more romantic than I remembered it. We dined
there, & set off at 1/2 past 3 for Azeglio, missed the way and came
up out
at Cavalglia! Rather lucky for us I fancy, as it seemed very doubtful


whether we should find any place to sleep at Azeglio, [Tear in page] The scenery was
less striking about Lago Viverone than we had expected.
Monday June 30th
We had a comfortable night at Caval Cavaglià - bating
the one unavoidable source of torment to all travellers in S. Eu-
rope - and came on to Biella this morning by the direct route
not beng able to cross the La Serra as we had intended on
account of the
late
rains. I should have mentioned a sad sight
we saw yesterday between Ivrea & Cavaglià. Our attention
was attracted by what seemed to be fields of a grain new to us -
a wretched ragged-looking plant resembling 'reeds broken by
the wind'. We observed it for miles, at last, being able to make
nothing of it ourselves, we asked our coachman what it was,
"Gran turco." was his answer, "Indian corn, torn to tatters by the
hail an hour before!" It was so indeed. During our dinner
at Ivrea there had been a thunder-shower with a few dashes
of hail - we had thought nothing of it - but here, in the plain
below, it had utterly destroyed thousands of acres of beautiful
Indian corn just in flower. I had no idea that hail could
have produced such effects. The leaves were literally torn to fine
strings and hung trailing on the ground or twisted about the
bare upright stalk. The pumpkin-vines were crushed to a
pulp. This lovely country is not paradise after all. Our
welcome at Biella was gratifying.
Tuesday, June 31st July 1st
After dining at Biella we
took a renfort
last night
and climbed up to the semi-monastery of
Graglia. Though not quite clear the weather was fine, and
the prospect finer, but the newly installed rector detained


us so long in the Sala to take coffee with him that we
missed the sunset and its glories. It was a compensation
however to find this respectable man both liberal and
enlightened. He lamented that so little was now done for
his Sanctuary, "but," he added, "Christian charity has in these
days taken another, and far be it from me to say, a less
judicious, direction. If it has ceased to endow religious
houses, it at least does the work which once those religious
houses professed to do - it provides the poorer classes with
proper means of instruction, it cares for the widow and
the orphan & the outcast, and so long as it does these
these [sic] things there is no need of our old religious houses.
Times must change, whether we would have them or not,
& I see no reason to think they are not changing for the better."
Wednesday July 2nd Our apartments were very comfo convenient
when at last we got into
them.
We had most comfortables beds last
night, and this morning proved one of the finest of the
season, though not free from hazy mist. Mr Marsh
and Carrie climbed to the Santuario, which is some 800
feet above the church and monastery, but did not gain
much in view on account of the fog. After breakfast we
lounged among the shades of these charming grounds for hours,
enjoying immensely what was around us, above us and below us.
Go to Graglia all ye travellers who really love nature and
really wish to know something of Piemonte. We were
sorry to be obliged to come down before sunset.
We
Wednesday
Thursday July 3rd 2nd
We set off this morning at six
for [illegible]
Pié di Cavallo,
having passed the night at Biella.


We took the 'Signora's saddle' hoping to find some mule-
-path by means of which we could get from Piede
Piè di
Cavallo
over in to the Val de Lys. The rest of the party being
ambitious of a mountain expedition on foot over a route
not in the Guide Book. We were greeted by the good-
-natured inhabitants of this same Piède
Piè di Cavallo,
with: "Sono
venuti al fine del mondo." In answer to our enquiries
about the mule-path they assured us that bestie
could not possibly go over, but that the Signora could
very easily be carried over the pass, six hours, in a
basket by a woman! They showed us the basket, of a
very small at the bottom and widening rapidly upwards,
about three feet high. This basket the women carry on their
shoulders, sometimes filled with heavy bricks - some-
-times serving as a rest for the enormous load of hay
which these poor creatures carry. The Signora, d not
having been born south of Mason-and-Dixon's line,
did not like the idea of putting one of her Sisters to
such use, and the whole party returned to Biella
as they came up. The people at this 'end of the world'
were very kind, looked out a nice shady place for us to
lunch in and gave us all the information they could.
Mr Marsh and Carrie took a long walk in the direction
of the Val Sesia. They held a discourse with a woman
who told them that even a bestia might be got over this
pass, but as the Val Sesia would have been quite out
of our way we made no further direction experiments there.
The scenery up this Val d'Andorno is wild but not par-
-ticularly attractive any way, after one leaves the village


of Andorno. But there are very remarkable quarries
of granite it in which many men are employed, man
-ufactories of various kinds are in operation and a
large woolen factory was rapidly going in a little
below Rosazza. The inhabitants generally looked ex-
-tremely comfortable, no begging, almost no goître and
every body with plenty to do. The birds were most
musical the whole length of the valley and the
cuckoos answered each other from the opposite sides
in a most plaintive way. I have never in my life
heard the song of the cuckoo so much as in this
province of Biella.
Thursday 3rd
Once more we were on our way at
6 A.M. and this time to Ivrea over La Serra,
a most singular-looking ridge lying between
Biella and Ivrea which has greatly excited
Mr Marsh's curiosity to know how it came there.
The ascent commences soon after leaving Mongrando
and in about a quarter of an hour we found
ourselves in the strangest looking region one can
fancy. Nothing but stones - stones in heaps -
stones in ridges - stones in rivers. The whole
surface as far as we could see was stones - not
very large - in fact the absence of larger blocks
made Mr Marsh doubt at first whether this
could be an old moraine - and yet what else could
it be? At last we came to larger masses and there could
be no doubt it was a moraine in some remote geological


period. After crossing this wild tract, we climbed still higher up
the ridge, which on the slope now towards us was well culti-
-vated, and, on reaching what we had supposed to be the
highest point, we found a still higher line separated from
us by a ravine at the bottom of which ran a small stream.
Down the ravine, across the bridge and again on the top of this
new ridge and lo! another ravine, and another little torrent
and another ridge, and so, on and on until we reached
the last slope which brought us near Ivrea. After leaving
the moraine Mr Marsh says the remainder of the ridge is
entirely the work of water. I confess I cant understand
how water should have filled
piled
up such a semi mountain chain,
but I am silent and try to believe. There is little cultivation
on the upper portion of this broad water-washed ridge,
only pasturage and that not very good. The shepherd-
groups - old men, boys and girls with their dove-co-
-loured cows and oxen - their flocks of black and
white sheep with the inevitable dog were very
striking. The girls were most of them spinning - a
bright red kerchief on every head, and the flax bound
to the distaff by a band of the same colour. The
boys were noisy and full of play as a matter of course,
they being boys, but one old gran'ther particularly
drew our notice. He was leaning with both hands
on his crook, his hair white as snow, and his principle 
garment - whatever it might be called - cast about him
as if he were standing there expressly for the benefit
of some artist. At Ivrea Mr Marsh turned
back to Turin where diplomatic business, proofs,
and Mr Powers called him, and we of the spindle


set off wh with servants for the Rosa Rossa at
Ponte San Martino. The Rosa Rossa did not look so
inviting as some roses I have seen, but improved
on acquaintance, and we passed a very quiet night
- our heads full of the ruined old castles and all the
fine scenery that lies between Ivrea and this old Roman
bridge which we should see from our window, but for an
envious wall between us.
Friday July 4th. Ponte San Martino.
Our carriage, for which we are not
likely to have further use among the mountains, was
sent Turinward and this morning - Alexander with it as far
as Ivrea where he takes the rail to join Mr Marsh and return
with him tomorrow. I have not enquired, but trust that
our new Attaché [illegible],
a
small yellow and white dog, kept the
carriage company. This little brute, the property of the
padrone at Biella accompanied us on several of our ex-
cursions from that place, and finding chicken bones etc. - were
plenty among the Diplomatic persuasion, he decided at once
to join that body, ignored his former master, and
followed us on to this place in spite of remonstrance;
I, who don't much care for dogs, finding that the human
species use up the little affection I have to spare, frowned
on the creature, tried to make him understand he would
find it hard work and poor pay, this self constituted 
attaché-ship. But he would not heed, looked at me,
tucked his tail under his legs and took refuge with
the servants. Poor dumb thing! It makes one uncomfort-
-able to reject the appealing good will even of such as he.


Towards evening Giachino and Carrie climbed to the top
of the ruined old castle just above the town. Carrie
was delighted with her excursion, made wonderful dis-
-coveries of great dining-halls, old donjon-keeps, and
even saw skulls down in the deep vaults into which
she is sure the poor wretches were sent through ou-
-bliettes which she could not find. She was only sorry
that she could not stay till midnight when she would
have stood some chance of getting the real history of the
old ruin from some communicative ghost who would,
without doubt, be abroad at that hour. However, as
she was not only a woman, but even a young girl,
she was obliged to return demurely at set of sun,
and finish her fancies in the Rosa Rossa.
Saturday July 5th. Ponte San Martino
Mr Marsh came to us at 1. P.M. after having given
Mr Powers a Fourth dinner, corrected two proofs & finished off
all the Diplomatic work accumulated during his five days
absence. Although he had not slept two hours for the as
many nights, he preferred going on as far as St Vincent. We
set out for this famous watering place at 3. P.M. & arrived at
1/2 past 6, having been compensated for an incredible amount
of dust, by views of great interest, most picturesqe old castles
etc etc. Sunday July 5th Aosta - Augusta Praetoria of the Romans.
We came on here very early this morning to get
breakfast and spend a quiet sunday. The valley is pretty, even
grand in some places, between St Vincent and Aosta & Carrie saw
romantic-looking old castles to her heart's content, but all the
attractions of nature & antiquity, Mediaeval & Roman cannot
make amends for the human monstrosities one meets here.


For goître & crétinism I was prepared, but not for such
frightful distortion of form & feature, not for what seems more
like furious madness than harmless folly. Among the hundreds
we passed in the streets on entering this unhappy town scarely [scarcely] one was
of even respectable physique. I will not try to call to mind the pitiable
objects we saw, flat, unformed faces of enormous dimensions with nothing human
in them unless that feeble, idiotic smile must be admitted to be such.
But some of these crétins showed sign of frantic violence - two of them
shook their fists at us as we passed, and seemed to be prevented from
attacking us
only
by their more sane, though scarcely better-looking neighbours.
The goître with its shocking deformities was almost unrepulsive
compared with much else we witnessed. I reached the hotel
with a feeling of relief & have not trusted myself with a look
from the window except at the Becca di Nona, the first object of our
pilgrimage up this valley. The famous story of the Lepers of the Tower
of Aosta strikes me in a new light - I no longer pity them for
being
cut
off from all communication with the Aostans - if forced to
choose I think I should have cast my lot with the former.
The noted & lively Chanoine Carel came in to see & counsel
us soon after our af arrival. He did not think the weather promising
and gave me little hope of getting to the top of the Becca on a mule,
and insisted that I must walk for half an hour. Having with much
difficulty made him understand that I could not possibly do
it, I saw that his respect for me had vanished with the dawn-
ing of this conviction, and it was only by boasting of my laurels
at Vesuvius, Horeb, the Gemmi, Cal St Theodule etc that I in
some degree recovered my character in his eyes. It was settled
to give up the Becca till our return from Courmayeur on account
of the weather, and the intelligent and witty Chanoine, who I
fancy, is at least as good at a climb as at his Paternosters, is to go
with us. He wanted to know what Murray said of the Becca in his last


Remark of Chanoine Carrel that coffee was found
to be beneficial in cases of incipient goître. In
fact that a more nutritious diet was the first thing
to be thought of for diminishing this terrible disease.


edition. I showed him the paragraph which he read with evident
satisfaction, but when his eye fell lower on the page, on what
is said of crétinism in the Val d'Aosta, he exclaimed, "Per Bacco!
Il faut que ces malheureux Anglais parlent 'toujours de nos cretins! Cependent
nous ne sommes pas tous crétins, non plus!" He said this very good-
naturedly, but it was plainly a sore subject with him. - The wind
blew with such violence that we did not go out even to see the
Roman remains here, hoping for a more favorable day for it when we come
back. Our dessert was remarkable for consisting in part of apples
grown last year - kept they told us in straw.
Courmayeur July 7th
A heavy shower, with thunder which seemed toppling down
the mountain peaks above us, cleared the weather completely during the
night. We sighed as we looked at the Becca freshly bonnetted
in white - the work of the night's storm, - as it stood up so clearly
defined against the deep blue sky, with Mont Emilius still
taller and broader and whiter standing near it. But it was
too late to get mules and guides for so long a days excursion, and our
carriage was waiting at the door to take us to Courmayeur. A
parting look at the tempting Nona and her companion dissipa-
ted my chagrin at the our misjudgement of the weather; by re-
-calling to my mind oddly enough a phrase of Carlyle in his
Frederic, where he calls somebody 'fugitive ex-monk, with fu-
-gitive ex-nun attached.' There was certainly nothing very
apropos in the reminiscence, but it made one laugh,
and forget regrets. The drive to Courmayeur was far more
interesting than we expected. The scenery wilder and
grander. The castles numerous and picturesque. When
about two hours from Aosta there suddenly appeared above
the nearer mountains on the left a magnificent snow-
-peak. We all in a breath cried The Grivola! The Grivola!


for though Murray had not told us to expect it, from drawings
we had seen of it we knew we could not be mistaken.
Our coachman confirmed us, and for the rest of the
way we frequently enjoyed very imposing views
of this wonderful mountain. The mighty Mont Blanc
was enjoyably visible only for the last two hours. We
did not see the awful summits, the needles, the
giants both, the tremendous glaciers appear one
after the other without strong emotion. Twelve years
had not lessened their solemn interest. We reached
the village of Courmayeur at 12 1/2 ; deposited ourselves
in the Angelo, and such of our party as could stroll
did so till we could get breakfast which was not
till 2. It was too late for any regular excursion
today, but Mr Marsh and Carrie took another long
ramble, and made acquaintance with such of the
peasants as came in their way. One poor girl
who
was sitting
down to rest on a rock by the way, told them that last
year she fell from a precipice and injured her hip
so severely that after being, for four months in a
hospital, she was dismissed, but crippled for
life. She had been reaping grain all day and told Mr
Marsh, that she was paid eight cents a day only,
but that she had her food besides. We gave her the
wages of one day, and she was quite overcome in
trying to express her gratitude. As they walked on
they met another young girl, followed by a child,
who was weeping violently. The travellers stopped
and asked the little one why the other was crying. "Oh
she has just lost her mother." was the childs answer


and just then I was sitting in my window at the
hotel listening to the passing bell which was sounding
slowly &
mournfully from the tower of the village church.
Tuesday July 8th
A feverish night with severe pain in
the head and limbs - warnings which I have been fighting
against for the last three days - put it decidedly out of my
power to go to Mont de la Saxe this morning, as was the plan.
I however, after trying persuasion in vain, succeeded in inducing
Mr Marsh to go without me by a hint that I had rather make
the effort, ill as I was, than break up the excursion for the rest.
On this he went without me, and Giachino staid as nurse. The
day proved cold and windy, there were many clouds around
the higher mountain peaks, and altogether the excursion did not
prove a very satisfactory one.
Wednesday July 9th
A hot bath, a small dose of laudanum
and a quantity of weak black tea by way of tisane, re-
-lieved me very much last night, but being satisfied that I
should not be able to do mountain-work for a week to come I
persuaded Mr Marsh to take advantage of a very fine day
for the ascent of the Chécruit. They had the best wea-
-ther possible, climbed a ridge a good deal higher
than the Chécruit, and returned home by the lake
Combal, passing along the Brenva glacier. The view
of the mountains they describe as very fine but Mr Marsh says the
Brenva glacier though striking, and, to one who sees one of these
ice rivers for the first time, no doubt amazing, yet it
bears no comparison with the Gorner glacier. In the
course of their climb this morning they saw a little patch


of pasture, an Alp as they call it here, quite inaccessible
even for goats, but which the shepherds manage to reach them-
-selves and from which they let down cords, draw up their
sheep and there leave them for three months, when, the grass
being consumed, they let them down again.
One of the guides told them a rather singular incident: They were
passing along the lake Combal with an Italian officer
of high rank who had seen much service. A cat,
originally domestic but now become wild, suddenly
sprang out from the rocks and fastened her claws
into the legs of the mule on which the officer was riding.
The mule kicked, reared, plunged, jumped, and end-
-ed by hurling the General into the lake. He was
taken out by the guides without serious injury - but
what a strange fate it would have been for the old
veteran, who had come off safely from so many battle fields
to have been drowned at last by a cat!
Thursday July 10th.
Mr Marsh went early to the Dolina Spring -
did not like the waters which he thought contained iron
and magnesia - and then took a long stroll with Mr Bull -
not John this time, but Johnny. Another long walk in the
afternoon used up the day which had been too cloudy for
a regular excursion. I felt so much better this evening that
I thought it wise to go down to Aosta in the morning, and
if I must really be ill, to be so there within reach of more
of the necessaries in such cases. In that case the Cramonti
must be given up - or rather put off till we come back
from Switzerland by the Allée Blanche which we hope to do
in September.


July 11th Friday
We left Courmayeur a little before noon for Aosta
- I feeling so well as half to regret not having tried to
ascend to Cramont instead. The wind was high, however,
and it would not have been so easy or pleasant on
that account. We rolled down from Courmayeur to
Aosta in about four hours time - in a shackly old
machine which passed for a carriage. One of the
axles was bent which gave the thing a constant di-
-rection to the right, and which obliged the poor
horses to run always to the left. The result was a
most ludicrous kind of motion, which became
even perilous when we dashed down the very
steep hills at a Jehu pace relying on nothing human
but a very feeble mecanique which did not generally
get into operation till we were nearly at the bottom
of the hill. No harm came to us and at five we
were dining comfortably in our own apartments
in La Couronne
- a
luxury we had not enjoyed before since we left this
same town. On this occasion we discussed what was to be done
next. I had intended to remain here a few days to recruit,
if possible, leaving Mr Marsh to go back to Turin to do the
work that might be waiting for him there, but feeling so well
today and not tired by the drive I proposed to try the ascent
of the Nona as far as the Signal tomorrow, if the day should
prove fine. M decided to wait till three in the morning
when the weather and my courage should say what was
to be done.
July 12th Saturday. After an almost sleepless
night - Mr Marsh, I suppose, being anxious about the effect of so


much exertion on me, and I being hopeful that the
clouds might decide against the risk, we found at three
this morning the sky brilliant and every promise of a
glorious day. I tried to summon up the courage of
the day before and said we would go. There was some delay
in getting mules which we could not order positively the
night before, but at five o'clock we were mounted in
the courtyard, three masters and two servants, on as
many mules and each provided with a guide. The
return of sunlight and half a cup of strong black tea had
made me quite myself again and the first few paces of
my mule - easy and firm - satisfied me that I should carry
out the programme successfully. We went on, single file,
through the streets of Aosta swarming with dwarfs and
crétins, and out past the western wall - old Roman,
they say, and then turned south and south east
toward the Nona. I had no idea of the beauty of the
situation of Aosta until I stood on the centre of the bridge
which here crosses the Doire. It is most lovely. The
paroisse de Charvensod with its little village is ro-
-mantically placed at the foot of the ascent under the
shade of the most luxuriant walnuts. How is it pos-
-sible for the people to look so wretched where all nature
is smiling so brightly? But they do not beg. It seems rather
disease than want. From this village we climbed rapidly and
long. By some misunderstanding my guide separated me
from the rest of the party by taking, from the Chapel of St
Grat
Pantaleone
a more direct but steeper path to the top of the ridge
which overlooks the châlets of Comboë. We were out of sight &
hearing of the rest before I discovered that we were taking


another route and it was too late to return with the hope
of overtaking them. I consoled myself with the belief
that Mr Marsh would be told how the thing was by his
muleteer and that his being heavier for the mule would be
given as the reason why they took the longer way. The saving
of three quarters of an hour was certainly a pleasant
prospect for me and I stood on the Col de la Fenêtre
having experienced very little fatigue. The view, after
leaving the Chapel grew finer and finer at every zig-zag.
One peak of everlasting snow and ice came up after
another until I was quite dazzled and overwhelmed.
I had supposed myself to be climbing up the side of the
Nona when lo! having reached the Col de la Fenêtre
I saw a deep wide green valley more than a thousand
feet below me and the Becca rising far far above
me beyond this valley. It was but a fold of her wide
floating garment which I had been scrambling
over so long and so slowly. The descent to the châlet
of the Chanoine Carrel was very steep and rugged. My
guide seemed startled when I told him I could not
possibly walk down. After some hesitation he said he
was not afraid that his mule would fall but he was
afraid that Madama could not keep her seat in the
saddle - that her head might turn - the girths give
way, or something of the sort, and then - he pointed
to the perpendicular plunge below - a leap which I had
certainly no disposition to make. What was to be done!
Walk I could not. I told the man if he would answer
for his mule, I would answer for Madama, and the care
of the saddle we must trust to Providence alone. The good


fellow took his mule boldly by the bridle and we came
down without even a stumbling step on the part of his
faithful beast. We were soon at the châlet where I was
heartily welcomed by our friend the Chanoine Carrel
who presented me to his friend the Chanoine Bérard
These two gentlemen had been botanizing a and chamois
-hunting on and around the Nona during the last week,
and their spoils were represented by a pile of botanic
presses and the horns of a chamois lately slaughtered.
I passed a charming hour with these gentlemen,
listening to their week's exploits told in the liveliest
and most agreeable way, and if I could have forgotten
than Mr Marsh might perhaps be anxious about me, I
should have been quite reconciled to my adventure. At
last the rest of the party appeared. When they came in I
found my disappearance had occasioned more anxiety
than I had dreamed of, the other guides having told Mr
Marsh that the path I had taken was frightfully steep
and dangerous, - a mere goat path - of course he had
been dreadfully nervous at these exaggerations. The
fact was that by far the worst part of the way was the
one common to both routes, namely the descent to
the châlets of Comboë. "How did you come down the Col?"
said Mr Marsh to me. "Rode down." I said. "I would not
have had you do it if I had been with you for all
Piedmont" I smiled and remembered the break-neck
passes in Arabia down which I had ridden on a trembling
camel and in his sight too - but we were then risking
our lives every day and this is our first experience this summer.


We lunched with the Chanoines who kindly joined
us afterwards in the ascent of the Signal - a higher
point on the Col than that over which we had
passed and commanding a view, they assured us,
little inferior to that seen from the Becca itself.
To reach this point we were obliged to ascend the Col at the place we
had crossed in coming over, then we turned to the right
keeping along the crest. My guide declared that he would
not be responsible for consequences here. The Chanoine
Carrel who was marching before us with his alpenstock
stright [straight] as a Grenadier, said "Suivez moi," and mule-
-teer, mule and Madama did follow. "Madama had
better look to the right hand," said the muleteer, "if
her head should grow giddy, she might fall." The sight to the 
left was certainly not calculated to make one's head steady - a perpendic
ular precipice of 1400 feet even at the chanoine's estimate - and 
the highest part of the crest seemed to comb over like a wave.
We reached the Signal without mishap. Mr Marsh, Chanoine
Bèrard & the rest soon came up, & we all sat down
together by the pile of stones known as the Signal Sismonda.
Let those who would have an idea of what was before us climd
to the same point - or, if they are already familiar with other
Alpine scenery, let them look at Chanoine Carrel Panorama
from the Becca di Nonna. No mere words can convey any
notion of it. The whole range of the Pennine Alps, from Mont
Blanc west of north, to Monte Rosa west
east
of South, lifted its snowy
summits in a more than semi-circular battlement around
and above us. Further to the south stood the majestic
Grivola with her giant sisters on the right and left, all white
& glittering in their garments of eternal ice. These last are known as


the Graiän Alps, and have been little visited by travellers
until recently. But since the King goes to there every summer to
hunt the bouquetins they have become objects of more frequent
explorations. The peaks of the Becca and of Mont Emilius
cut of the view between Monte Rosa and the Graiän Alps,
or we might have had a peep out upon the vast plains
of Piedmont. Every new experience in Alpine scenery makes one
more timid about drawing comparisons as to the finest,
etc. etc. - so, without saying anything of others we contented
ourselves with feeling that the scene before us was most beautiful
and most sublime. Even the best of company seems out of place
on such occasions. One does not like to feel obliged to speak.
Our friends of the Church were too familiar with this
sight to be impressed by it as we were. The lively
Chanoine Carrel drew out his flagelette and played
for us some gay Italian airs which of course we shall
always hereafter associate with the Signal Sismonda -
the very object the Chanoine had in view, no doubt.
We could not stay long, for though all thought of
reaching the summit of the Becca this time was
given up, we had still no little work before us to
get back to Aosta. Mr Marsh said to me, and an 'aside,'
"How are you to get down?" "On the mule as I came up, I
suppose." "If you get on the mule here again I shall
certainly faint, I cannot bear it." At this moment
The Chanoine Carrel said "We will go down another
way, and we must manage to get Madam down
this slope, without the mule, it is too slippery
for him to carry her safely down." I trembled much
more at the thought of the walk, but the stout Chanoine


took me by one arm, placed an alpenstock in my other
hand which he showed me how to plant in the sloping
soil, and in this way I slid down for many rods only taking
now and then a step rather by way of checking than adding
to my velocity over which I had very little control.
This time I was frightened - not for the immediate con-
-sequences, but for what I might feel on the morrow, and
when at last I was placed on the mule I trembled so
violently that I could scarcely keep the saddle. The
fresh air soon revived me and cooled the throbbing of
cheeks and temples; we took leave of the two learned
Chanoines who were going back to the châlet before
descending to Aosta and then made our way as we could down
the sharp zig-zag of the mountain. Mr Marsh and Carrie
walked nearly all the way to the town - Carrie making
short cuts down the goat-paths and even down the
slides - greatly to the amusement of the guides. It
was really funny to see how she managed her alpen-
-stock, leaping with it very like a performer in a
circus. Once she went down handsomely, - but was
up and flying on again before we had time to be
frightened or to laugh at her. We reached Aosta
at about four very, very tired, but having had a
delightful day. of
Sunday July 13th
This day of rest came
most welcomely. We were all dull enough this
morning, but Carrie the least and I the most so.
My head ached violently and I had no control


over my limbs which almost refused to support my weight.
A light breakfast garnished with a cup of black tea, did
wonders for all. We began to chat merrily before the tea-
-pot was drained and little more was said of fatigue.
The Chanoines came in after service and took Mr Marsh
off to see the curiosities of the Cathedral, some old
cloisters &c &c. Chanoine Bérard is quite
learned as a philologist - and he and Mr Marsh
discussed kindrid [kindred] topics very sympathetically.
These two Chanoines belong to different - chapters
is, I think, the term they used, and the history
of this difference is singular. In the time of the
Arian controversy the Bishop of Aosta took the
side of Arius. One of his presbyters, Saint Ours, seceded
and with him a portion of the Church. The Church
property and the Church privileges shared in the
division. This latter split has continued ever since
although the difference in doctrine has been healed.
The Chanoine Carrel belongs to one branch - the Chanoine
Bérard to the other. There [illegible]
is
in one of the cloisters an
odd old carving representing the devil in the act of
strangling the heretic bishop, a legend which
Chanoine Bérard evidently did not consider as
a binding article of faith. Before separating
from these gentlemen we talked of the mountains
once more and the Chanoine Bérard gave a very
amusing picture of his brother Carrel's
chamois-hunt two days ago. He said they were
scrambling for botanical specimens among
very ugly looking rocks and precipices when
suddenly the Chanoine C. cried "Chut! there is


a chamois! I must go back for my gun." "You cant
pass me here." "I must, I will, or you must turn back."
"I am afraid to turn back here, you said we could pass
around the other way without returning over this dan-
-gerous ledge." "Yes, but the chamois is there, I tell you
you must go back" - and back poor Bérard had to go.
The rifle was fetched, and Bérard who was following
his friend again rather from shame than inclination,
was drawn on and on until at last the merciless hunter
made him hang with a sort of mountain hatchet
upon a firm rack above their heads while he scrambled
down lower, and actually made use of the legs of his
trembling brother Church-man to steady himself till he
could reach a projection firm enough to support him while
he took aim at his victim. Bérard expostulated vigo-
-rously bus the heartless Nimrod only responded:
"N'ayez pas peur. J'y suis."
Monday July 14.
At half past 4
this morning we were again on our way down the valley.
Nothing can be more enchanting than such an Alpine
vale in this still, sweet, bright morning hour. The
pastures looked greener, the old cattles more picturesque,
the distant snow peaks more briliant, the nearer mountain
tops more fantastic than we had seen them before. If
we could but have shut our eyes to these most woeful
specimens of humanity - the inhabitants of this
valley. Why should man grow monstrous where nature
is so lovely! We arrived at San Vincent at about 7 1/2,
and leaving the rest of us here Mr. Marsh went on,


hoping to reach Turin tonight.
Tuesday July 15th. I was too unwell to do any thing
better
to-day
to better than to listen to a French translation of the Lamp-
lighter which I have not read in English, but which
is so much liked in Turin as to excite my curiosity.
I find the self-sacrifice it inculcates very admirable
but it is trivial in incident tedious in detail and
every way unartistic. I can't understand its immense
popularity.
Wednesday July 16th.
Mr Marsh returned at eleven this morning
and brought with him painful family-news from
home - dear Mary's illness with varioloid
small-pox.
My heart
needs no other place of record than itself for such
things and I have made it a rule not to note
down my private griefs in journals except in the most
general way - but this I record as an instance of a
person's having this fearful disease after having been
successfully vaccinated in early childhood the
having had
varioloid
a few years later. The war news is very saddening, too.
Thursday July 17th
We set out on mules at 4 P.M. to cross
the Col de Jou, intending to pass the night at Bressone, but
I was so unwell as to be forced to turn back after a half-hours
ride - the first time, I believe, I have ever been obliged to give
up such an enterprise once undertaken.
Friday July 18.
Spent the whole day on the bed where
I was laid when taken from my mule, but hope to be able
to start again early in the morning.


Saturday July 19th
Soon after 4 A.M. we were again on our
way to Bressone, and this time successfully. Nothing could
be finer than the day, or more picturesque than the path through
among
the walnut-trees and chestnut-trees, and through the green
pastures, or more striking than the changing outline of the
mountains as we ascended and descended the successive
ridges. Châlets in the most romantic situations called out our
lively admiration till we were near enough to see the inmates
deformed by goître and disgusting from neglect who stood about
the doors. In a little more than three hours we descended into
the Val d'Ayas, one of the most beautiful Alpine valleys I
have ever seen, and here, thank God, is neither goître nor
cretinism, although so near the Val d'Aosta and nearly
parallel with it. We p breakfasted at Bresson, rested
till noon, and then set out to cross the Col de Ranzola
hoping to reach Gressoney by 5 o'clock. The ascent was not
difficult on mules, and the charming valley we were leaving
and the noble mountains around us lost nothing as we went
on. One point of view particularly struck us. A very regular
mountain head which rose near us on the right was at
last completely crowned by more distant peaks which rose
one after another until they formed a perfect diadem above
it. We had hoped on reaching the summit of the Col to
climb the crest of the Combetta, which commands a mag-
-nificent view of the Val d'Aosta and a fine panorama
of the Pennine Alps, but clouds had already filled the
valley and it was plain that we should gain nothing by
going higher. The descent was very steep - quite unsafe for


mules, and accordingly most of our party walked, or
rather stumbled down, as they could, while I was
carried in a chair without accident, thanks to a kind
Providence and the watchful eye and strong arm
of Pelissier, our invaluable guide from Chatillon.
This man, a nephew of the Chanoine Carrel, is a fine
specimen of his class here. He possesses a great physical
strength, knows every thing about the Alps, and has
a capacity for knowing everything else if he had had the
opportunity. In America such a man would have taken
his place among the cultivated and the wealthy; here
he and his mule toil together over mountain passes
year after year receiving a poor pittance from the traveller
who needs their services. Still even in this humble sphere his
natural superiority is felt, and the remaining five men
whom we employed were as obedient to his word as the
best disciplined soldier to his officer. It was still
unclouded in the direction of Monte Rosa, and her glorious
peaks and glaciers which were almost constantly visible
on our way down well repaid us for the roughness of
the way. The Val de Leys, like all these Alpine valleys, is
most lovely, and as we came down low enough to tread
its bright green meadows we found them [illegible] gay
with a rose coloured crocus, very like what we saw in Tuscany
last October. We reached the Hotel of the famous guide De la
Pierre between four and five, and were glad enough of the
rest and refreshment it affords.
Sunday July 20th.
M Marsh and Carrie took a long sol-
-itary walk of two hours down the valley, towards Pont St Martin.


The precipices are tremendous here and they were struck
by a touching inscription on a little chapel which stated
that a shepherd was there watching his flock, his little
son of three years old sleeping near him when suddenly
a huge mass of rock came thundering from the hights [heights]
above. The father escaped, the child was buried beneath
it. They were very tired when they returned after four
hours, having not very discreetly chosen the sunniest part
of the day. I remained quietly on my lounge resting
for tomorrow's excursion to the Lys glacier.
Monday July 21st
We had fixed upon 4 this morning for starting
to the Lys glacier, but our guides and other wise ones assured us
that we should find it so cold at the foot of the glacier if we
left so early that we should be obliged to shelter ourselves in
a châlet before arriving there and wait some hours for the sun
to get higher. We were advised and did not leave till six. Even
then the ride up the valley was cold notwithstanding thick
shawls. For the first hour or more we did not ascend much,
but after passing Gressoney la Trinité the ascent was very
sharp up a kind of staircase very difficult for mules. Indeed
the whole way from this village to the foot of the last moraine
over which we had to climb was excessively rugged and difficult.
This moraine we reached after a three hours pull. Here the mules
were left, and the happy souls who had feet to trust to make
use of them. I resigned myself to the inevitable chair and was
safely landed on the ridge that overlooks the mighty glacier.
It was, however, so difficult a feat for my bearers that my
conscience smote me even in the midst of the strange wild delight I


felt at overlooking so sublime a sight. We stayed here
some time and then it was proposed to climb to a
still higher platform. Our guides showed great willing-
-ness to take me, but I could not make up my mind to
subject them to this fresh fatigue, and I was very glad I did
not as Mr Marsh and Carrie after a two hours absence
returned to tell me that they had not gained much by
the greater elevation and Mr Marsh for a wonder suffered not
a little from exhaustion. He felt much oppression and nausea.
The descent of the moraine was so steep and slippery that it
was quite evident I could not be carried down in the chair and the
ingenious Pelissier twisted a shawl about my waist and retaining on end
of it himself gave the other to the surest footed of the guides and between
the two I slid down to the bottom of the moraine. We stopped to refresh
ourselves in a neat little châlet about 3/4 of an hour below the glacier. The
mistress gave us a ver good cup of coffee and supplied our attendants
with hot polenta and brimming bowls of milk and cream. We did
not return to Gressoney till 5 o'clock having spent twice the time
Murray speaks of as necessary to this excursion. It was only after
a highly coloured cup of tea with our dinner that we dared speak
of the next day. Then a council was held and it was agreed that
if we could get a good nights rest we would start at 4 the next
morning to cross the Col d'Ollen and so pass over into the Val
Sesia.
Tuesday July 22
I did not sleep much partly from fatigue
and pain, partly from anxiety as to how I ought to decide what
should be done this morning and partly from the weary moanings of
a poor young Englishman who had climbed the Gran Haupt yesterday.


Mr Marsh however felt better. The day was promising and I could
not make up my mind to be a clog to the rest. Go, was the word -
guides and mules were soon ready. - We swallowed a cup of hot
tea and well wrapped in winter gear were on our way
again up the Lys valley long before sunrise. The two first hours
of our path were the I same as yesterday. The morning was
lovely, the mountain peaks and precipices on each side of us looked ma-
-jestic beyond description; especially the Graves Haupt on our left - a
giant mountain of 11,000 ft. in hight [height], but too difficult of access for
very stout men or invalids. At last we turned to the right and
began to ascend very rapidly. About this time we witnessed a most
singular phenomenon connected with the rising sun


Wednesday 23 July
The morning looked thick and foggy - there was no chance of
seeing anything today and as we must be in Turin tomorrow
we have no choice but to turn down the valley towards Varallo.
We reached Piode after 4 hours mule travelling and here
were to take carriages for Varallo. "Yes Yes" was the answer to
our inquiries at Piode as to whether there were carriages to be had.
Two were soon brought out - one tolerable, the other in the most
forlorn condition imaginable. A poor tired jade was harnessed to the
first, and one lame and tired both, to the second. This was too much
for Alexander's philosophy. He stormed right dramatically - called the
padrone hard names - insisted upon having another and a better
carriage which was standing near the door. The padrone said the
carriage was not his, it belonged to a party who were on a pleasure
excursion from Varallo, and who were that moment taking luncheon in
his house Our zealous factotum no whit abashed ushered him-
self into the presence of this party - stated the case - said it
was a disgrace to the country that the American Minister and his
family should be put into such a carriage as had been proposed, &
appealed to their patriotism to consent to give up their
more respectable vehicle to the distinguished stranger & to
return to Varallo themselves in the shabby, tattered, dirty thing
which had been designed for us. There was something ludicrous in
the very impudence of this proposal which of course was made
without consulting us and which we never dreamed would be
accepted. To our amazement however this amiable party
seemed to regard the matter much in the same light as
Alexander did. The young men discussed the subject with
their sweethearts and the carriage was at once put at our


disposal. I was heartily ashamed to take it but was assured
that they would be more mortified to have strangers put into
so miserable a carriage &c, and we were soon off amid the
kindliest buon viaggio of our obliging stranger friends. One
may form some idea of the difference in national character between
the Italians and ourselves by fancying how a pleasure party of Americans
would have treated such a proposal. We arrived at Varallo
in good time, took room at the Post Royal but were visited
all night by scents of a most unearthly nature. We were obliged to
shut our windows though the heat was very great. Mr Marsh declared
that he could only explain such an intolerable condition of the at-
-mosphere only on the supposition that Satan himself was passing by.
"And if that could be shown," he added, "every human creature that in-
haled it would be instantly converted." Neither fire nor frost with
all their attendant horrors could strike a terror like this." I
expressed some anxiety about leaving our door unlocked "Dont be afraid"
he said, "if they have left their windows open every mortal in
the house is dead before this time." It really was something pestilential,
and we could not sleep at all.
Thursday 24 July
We drove from Varallo to Novara this
morning - dined at the station and reached Turin at 5 1/2. The Val
Sesia was pretty below Varallo but not very striking, and after
we were fairly down to the plain the heat and dust were oppressive
I felt rather sadly to leave the cool bright mountains for
the noisy city but I did not know what heavy news was
waiting for me there. I had scarcely thrown aside my bonnet
when Mr Marsh put my letters into my hands. The first words I
saw were "Lucy's dreadful affliction in the loss of her child." I


dared not look further and another took the letter for me.
Yes it was Flora - that most beautiful, most bright of all
the children I have ever looked upon. But I have said
I would not record private sorrows here and at least
I will not dwell upon them with my pen. - only I must
say May God pity the poor parents and the little brother
and sister that are left as I pity them, and may He let
us all see that glorious little creature in eternity as
beautiful and bright and joyous as she was here. Could
we ask to have her more so?