driver, in the mean time, actually found room for himself on the foot-board at my feet.
The heights had now begun to clothe themselves with rich verdure and beautiful trees, when a stone pillar near the road showed itself, with these words:
ITALIA.
STATO SARDO.
And anon, the beautiful valley of Domo d'Ossola, revealed itself with immense chestnut-forests, laden with fruit, and amidst which gleamed forth white houses, chapels, and churches. Cheerful colors, bright yellow, and red, shone upon the houses, gates, and towers, and produced a pleasant effect.
At Isella, we undergo a visitation from the custom-house officers, but without much trouble or annoyance. The countenances, expression, language, are here, all Italian. There is an agreeable, smiling expression in their dark eyes, and in their expressive mouths.
Amidst pouring rain we entered into beautiful Italy, driving along the fields of Piedmont, between wooded heights, and over the sandy plain, where the river La Tosa rolls its turbid waters. Thus we arrived at Domo d'Ossola. Here every thing has an Italian character, and looks gay and beautiful, spite of the rain. Broad streets; fresco-painted houses; young men, who go along singing, arm-in-arm, with garlands of vine-leaves round their heads, in the midst of the rain. It produces a sunny effect.
It rained so hard at the time of our arrival, that I was glad to get under the shelter of a roof, as soon as
