possible, which I did at the post-house, where we stopped. I was conducted into two or three large, naked rooms, the floors of which looked as if they were rubbed with tobacco-saliva. But I was assured that it is un bello nero, and the place very clean; I endeavored to believe so, though I could not see it. Neither have I ever seen it yet. The hotel is full of empty, cold, rooms, with doors which will not shut, bells which will not ring, and every thing at sixes and sevens—not as in Switzerland! But the bed is good; the table very good; the attendants obliging; and in the morning I hope to reach Lago Maggiore, and the Borromean Islands.
Palanza, on Lago Maggiore, Sept. 12th.—When did any one ever think of Italy, Lago Maggiore, Isola Bella, otherwise than in connection with a clear sky, brilliant sun, and every thing under the most bright and agreeable aspect? But I had the experience that when it is bad weather in beautiful Italy, it is so with a vengeance, and when it rains here, it does not soon leave off.
At Domo d'Ossola, I found only a moment to go out, to look round me a little, and read over the door of a church, the great words:—“Indulgenza quotidiana, perpetua et plenaria;” the full meaning of which I leave to another time. In the evening, all the elements were in convulsion, and there was a thunderstorm, such as I never heard before; flash upon flash, peal upon peal, and such flashes of lightning! They lit up the whole heaven and earth, which looked black as the grave! and so on till midnight. Nevertheless,
