ed up from the bottom of the deepest well, dark and narrow.
Every moment I kept thinking, 'Nay, if these two walls should come
together!' We with carriage and horses were only like ants on a pebble.
We drove through the ribs of the earth! The water roared; the clouds
hung like fleeces on the gray, craggy walls. In a valley we saw boys
and girls dressed in sheep-skins, who looked as wild as if they had been
brought up among beasts.

"Suddenly the air became wondrously mild. We saw the first fig-tree by
the road-side. Chestnuts hung over our heads; we were in Isella, the
boundary town of Italy. Otto sang, and was wild with delight; I studied
the first public-house sign, 'Tabacca e vino.'

"How luxuriant became the landscape! Fields of maize and vineyards! The
vine was not trained on frames as in Germany!--no, it hung in luxuriant
garlands, in great huts of leaves! Beautiful children bounded along the
road, but the heavens were gray, and that I had not expected in Italy.
From Domo d'Ossola, I looked back to my beloved Switzerland! Yes, she
turns truly the most beautiful side toward Italy. But there was not
any time for me to gaze; on we must. In the carriage there sat an old
Signorina; she recited poetry, and made: with her eyes 'che bella cosa!'

"About ten o'clock at night we were in Baveno, drank tea, and slept,
whilst Lago Maggiore splashed under our window. The lake and the
Borromaen island we were to see by daylight.

"'Lord God!' thought I, 'is this all?' A scene as quiet and riant as
this we--have at home! Funen after this should be called Isola bella,
and the East Sea is quite large enough to be called Lago Maggiore. We
went by the steamboat past the holy Borromeus [Author's Note: A colossal
statue on the shore of Lago Maggiore.] to Sesto de Calende; we had a
priest on board, who was very much astonished at our having come from so
far. I showed him a large travelling map which we had with us, where
the Lago Maggiore was the most southern, and Hamburg the most northern
point. 'Yet still further off,' said I; 'more to the north!' and he
struck his hands together when he perceived that we were from beyond the
great map. He inquired whether we were Calvinists.

"We sped through glorious scenes. The Alps looked like glass mountains
in a fairy tale. They lay behind us. The air was warm as summer, but
light as on the high mountains. The women wafted kisses to us; but they
were not handsome, the good ladies!

"Tell