Iviii 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 



the Alps ; and in order to have a better chance 

 of success, I got out of the carriage and tra- 

 velled onwards on foot. But I saw none ; the 

 earth appeared one huge barren waste, and the 

 heavens produced not a single inhabitant of air 

 to break the dull monotony around us. 



Charming is the descent down the southern 

 side of the Alps ; every day brought us a 

 warmer climate with it, and gave us a foretaste 

 of the delightful temperature to be enjoyed in 

 the delicious air of an Italian autumn. As we 

 were advancing slowly up a little ascent in the 

 road, my sister-in-law, Miss Helen Edmonstone, 

 who had just been looking out of the window 

 of the carriage, remarked with a considerable 

 archness of countenance, " I am sure that we 

 are in Italy now." Thinking that there was 

 something more than common, by the way in 

 which this remark had been uttered, I cast 

 my eye along the road behind us, and there I 

 saw a matronly looking woman, with her fingers 

 in full chase amid the long black hair of a 

 young damsel, apparently her daughter. " I 

 agree with you, Miss Helen," said I. " We 

 are in Italy, there can be no doubt of it ; pro- 

 bably in parts of this country, combs are not 



