in summer, are frequent and dangerous-and it is chiefly to shelter and receive the traveller delayed by them, that seven houses of refuge are built on the ascent, each at an hour's journey from the other, which are inhabited by the people who survey and repair the road. They are furnished with fuel, beds, and provisions. Travellers early in spring, are sometimes stopped nine or ten days in these abodes. There are only three houses of refuge on the Italian side, where avalanches of snow rarely occur; though avalanches of rock-if I may use such an expression-frequently render the road impassable on that side. But I am sure you have often heard enough and too much of the road over the Simplon; of its ten houses of refuge, and ten galleries cut through the solid rock, and twenty-two bridges, and all its marvels so that I will spare you any further description of them. Admirable as the road is, however, there is perhaps nothing so good but what might have been better. We noticed that the water, which falls and drips constantly from the precipice on the mountain side of the road, had no proper channel to carry it off, so that it overspreads the road, which must be a source of constant dilapidation. The descent of the road being so rapid, nothing more seemed requisite than making a deep channel along the base of the precipice, and keeping it clear of the stones which might fall, to allow the water to drain off. An engineer whom we saw employed in directing the repairs of the road, also told us, that from the extreme rapidity with which it was ordered by Napoleon to be completed, the foundation had been imperfectly laid, and was too slight a defect which, if real, must prove equally irremediable and destructive. He told us that the annual repairs of the road would average at least one hundred thousand livres. The views, as we turned our eyes behind us in ascending, were extremely striking and varied-the mighty Alps of Switzerland, which we had left, rising in higher and higher majesty ; and the Valais growing smaller and smaller,till at last it looked so ridiculously little, that we could have fancied it was a tiny coloured map, drawn to please a child; and it looked, though at an immense depth, so immediately below us, that we almost fancied, if we took a jump, we should alight in its little square green fields. Near the summit, we passed six glaciers, with their blue pyramids of ice, and soon left the precipices hung with dark pine, and even the pensile birch, for regions of utter desolation. The Old Hospice, a small humble building that for ages has sheltered the poor wandering traveller, is a branch of that of St. Bernard, and is kept up to this day by the active charity of these good brethren ;-for the neighbouring proud ambitious erection, designed by Napoleon, is still, and probably ever will continue, unfinished. At Simpeln, or Simplon, near the summit of the pass, and said to be the highest situated village in the Old World, we found a very comfortable inn, got an excellent dinner, and made a blazing wood fire. I was extremely disappointed at the summit. of the pass, to find that I could not look down into Italy, as Hannibal did of old-and many other modern travellers say they have done, and as I fully expected to do. But no such thing is to be done-no Italy appears. From the winding nature of the ravine, or valley of descent, the intervening mountain heights exclude it from view. The road, in descending, lies very near the bed of the wild and romantic Dovêdro -and the scenery, the whole way on the Italian descent, is incomparably finer than on the Swiss side of the mountain. I could not have conceived the possibility of such a union of the sublime and the beautiful, as it displays. Much did we regret the rapidity with which we descended through it. But who can describe the effect of our arrival at Duomo D'Ossola—of the luxuriant richness and beauty of the country, teeming with wine, and oil, and corn, and fruits, and flowers ;-resounding with the joy of the vintage; overflowing with population; covered with villas, and villages, and poderes, and especially with churches; every living thing beaming beneath the bright blue sky, sporting in the soft summer air, and melting beneath the fervid sun-beams? Who can describe the effect of the changed appearance of every object-of the whole face of nature and the human face divine? Who can describe the effect of the first view of Italy? It is like a new existenceanother world! Yes! Italy-Italy is before us! We are standing on its rich and glorious plains! Three hours have sufficed to transport us from the regions of eternal ice and snow, and the wild deserts of a polar region, to the climes of the sun, the garden of the world, the land of beauty and luxuriance, and seduction;-of classic remembrance, of taste, of imagination, and of song;-of all that can captivate the senses, or charm the soul! But I must be reasonable-and this letter is wholly unreasonable-like most of my epistles. -So adieu. CHAPTER XXXVIII. ITALY. In lieto aspetto il bel giardin' s'aperse Selve, espelunche in una vista offerse, Tasso, Canto 16, Stanza 2. LETTER XXXVII. CAROLINE ST. CLAIR TO MRS. BALCARRIS. I AWOKE in Italy! It seems like a dream-the dream of my fond fancy and longing hopes realised! Can it indeed be! Am I really in Italy, that Queen of the Earth, that favoured daughter of nature, adorned with her choicest gifts, crowned with the spoils of all ages and nations, to whom the arts, the sciences, and the graces, offered their earliest trophies and their latest fruits;-beneath whose favouring smile sculpture, painting, poetry, and music, in ancient times, reached their full maturity; and having slumbered in their chrysalis state through the winter of the dark ages, again burst forth in the second spring of morn, in renewed and youthful existence. I am wild with delight-but I must restrain some of my transports-and all my descriptions; for although at your particular desire(of which, perchance, you did many times repent)-I gave you a most full and minute account of my travels in Switzerland, because it was a country little known to you; yet as you have read hundreds of tours in Italy, and will read hundreds more, I will spare you any detail of mine; except of what you will find in no book, though it will be infinitely more interesting to you than all books-my own little adventures and sage remarks. The first impression of the people is not very prepossessing. In person, indeed, their forms and features are fine, and their dark eyes have a power of expression which would command your high interest and admiration, if their countenances were better. But the expression of immorality and uncontroulled passions written there, and the disgusting dirt and contempt of decency their persons exhibit, are antidotes to their personal charms. Their indolence and inactivity, to an English eye, are also peculiarly striking. The Dolce far niente seems the grand enjoyment of all ranks, from the prince to the beggar. Your life is made miserable with beggars wherever you go. You are beset with troops of them, covered with filth, and clad in the most wretched rags, who whine out continually-Carità, Signora, per l'amore di Dio,'and if you do not comply-too often change their blessings into curses. A labourer at his work will throw down his spade to ask you for |