resembling the instinct of
animals. I recollect one myself mentioned by Zimmermann in his Essay on
Solitude, of a cretin who was accustomed to imitate with his voice the
sound of the village clock whenever it struck the hours and quarters; one
day, by some accident, the clock stopped; yet the cretin went through the
chimes of the hours and quarters with the same regularity as the clock
would have done had it been going.

We arrived at night at the village of Brieg at the foot of the Simplon and
put up at a very comfortable inn. Brieg and Glisse are two small villages
lying within a quarter of a mile distance from each other. The direct road
runs thro' Brieg and is a great advantage to this town; while Glisse lost
this benefit from the opposition shewn by its inhabitants to the annexation
of the Valais to the French Empire. They now deeply regret this refusal as
few travellers chuse to stop at Glisse.

_Passage of the Simplon_.

Chi mi dara la voce e le parole
Convenienti a si nobil soggetto?[52]

Who will vouchsafe me voice that shall ascend
As high as I would raise my noble theme?

--Trans. W.S. ROSE.

How shall I describe the Simplon and the impressions that magnificent piece
of work, the _chaussee_ across it, made on my mind? On arrival at the
village of the Simplon, which lies at nearly the greatest elevation off the
road and is more than half-way across, I wrote in my enthusiasm for the
author of this gigantic work, the following lines:

O viaggiator, se avessi tu veduto
Quel monte, pria che fosse il cammin fatto,
Leveresti le mani, e stupefatto
Diresti, "chi l'avrebbe mai creduto?
Son come quel d'Alcide i tuoi miracoli!
Vincesti, Napoleon', piu grandi ostacoli!"

Imagine a fine road or causeway broad enough for three carriages to go
abreast, cut in the flanks of the mountains, winding along their contours,
sometimes zigzag on the flank of one ravine, and sometimes turning off
nearly at right angles to the flank of another; separated from each other
by precipices of tremendous depth, and communicating by one-arched bridges
of surprising boldness; besides stone bridges at each re-entering angle, to
let pass off the water which flows from the innumerable cascades, which
fall from the summits of the mountains. Ice and snow eternal on the various
_pics_ or _aiguilles_ (as the summits are here called) which tower above
your head, and yet in the midst of these _belles horreurs_ the road i