tical picture was there. I could not persuade myself that the
_diligence_ had moved from the spot, despite the rumbling of its wheels
and the jingling of the horses' bells. All night long the same
changeless picture kept moving on and on, ever passing, yet never past.

I may be said to have crossed the Alps amid a torrent of curses. My
place was in the _banquette_, the roomiest and loftiest part of the
lofty _diligence_, and which, perched in front, and looking down upon
the inferior compartments of the _diligence_, much as the attics of a
three-storey house look down upon the lower suits of apartments,
commands a fine view of the country, when it is daylight and clear
weather. There sat next me in the _banquette_ a young Savoyard, who
travelled with us as far as Chamberry, in the heart of the Alps; and on
the other side of the Savoyard sat the _conducteur_. This last was a
Piedmontese, a young, clever, obliging fellow, with a voluble tongue,
and a keen dark eye in his head. Scarce had we extricated ourselves from
the environs of Lyons, or had got beyond the reach of the guns that look
so angrily down upon it from the heights, till these two broke into a
conversation on politics. The conversation soon warmed into an energetic
and vehement discussion, or philippic I should rather say. Their
discourse was far too rapid, and I was too unfamiliar with the language
in which it was uttered to do more than gather its scope and drift. But
I could hear the names of France and Austria repeated every other
sentence; and these names were sure to be followed by a volley of
curses, fierce, scornful, and defiant. Austria was cursed,--France was
cursed: they were cursed individually,--they were cursed
conjunctly,--once, again, and a hundred times. What were the politics of
the passengers in the other compartments of the diligence I know not;
but little did they wot that they had a democratic club overhead, and
that more treason was spouted that night in their company than might
have got us all into trouble, had there been any evesdropper in any
corner of the vehicle. When I chanced to awake, they were still at it.
The harsh grating sound of the anathemas haunted me during my sleep
even. It was like a rattling hail-shower, or like the continuous
corruscations of lightning,--the lightning of the Alps. Had it been
possible for the authorities to know but a tithe of what was spoken
that night by my two neighbours, their journey would have b