cising his lungs and his ingenuity, and tempting idlers away from the parade, the procession, and the empiric. The clamours of these rivals for public applause, the buz of voices, the rattling of arms, and the sound of military music, mingled strangely with the bells calling to Church, and with the chaunting of the priests in procession. No where is religion more ostentatious, or even more obtrusive than at Turin, and yet the whole of the Lord's day presents the spectacle of a fair, rather than that of a holy convocation, and glad were we to think, that one day more, and the short distance of less than thirty miles, would bring us to the valleys, and restore us to a state of things more resembling those to which we are accustomed at home.

On Monday, the 22nd of June, after having had an interview with Mr. St. George, the British chargé d'affaires, who had just returned from La Torre, full of admiration of the Vaudois, and of kind intentions towards them, we left Turin at about one o'clock, and taking a course south-west, through Nona, Pinerolo, and Bricherasio, we reached La Torre at seven. I cannot adequately describe my feelings, as I approached the well remembered spots, which are almost as dear to me as my native soil. As the mountains neared upon us, after travelling the long plain, and straight line of road which extends from Turin to Pinerolo, it was more like the sensation of

returning home than of going to renew old acquaintanceship. But when Castelluzzo broke upon my view, and the church of San Giovanni, the first Protestant village, rose before me, and when a little afterwards the bridge of La Torre came in sight, my emotions were such as any one on earth might envy. I had one by my side, who understood and participated in the feelings of the moment. If pure and unmixed happiness was ever felt, it was on that evening, when I found myself again within the sacred limits of the Pelice and the Clusone, the seat of Christ's Church from the primitive times to the present. We drove through La Torre to the hamlet of San Margarita, and were received by the pastor of La Torre, M. Bert and his family, most kindly and heartily. It is impossible to say how kindly. Arrangements had been made to accommodate us in the house of M. Bert, and sweet was the sleep we enjoyed in one of the clean and comfortable apartments, which we were invited to consider our own during our stay in the valleys. With that delicacy which belongs to the Vaudois character, every wish and want of ours had been anticipated: and those, who know by experience the inconveniences and deprivations of which English travellers have to complain in the best furnished hotels out of Britain, will comprehend the pleasure we felt at finding a provision of linen, and of basins and water vessels, ample and capacious enough for the most luxu

rious ablutions. Another mark of attention to their guests' supposed tastes and habits was conspicuous in the room, which M. and Madame Bert had assigned to my especial use. It was the pastor's own study, well stocked with books, having a window opening upon one of the loveliest scenes in nature. Many were the happy tranquil hours which I enjoyed in this little room, turning over the time-worn volumes of my host, and his ancestors, and reading interesting treatises of authors of other days, whose names have long since passed into oblivion; or gazing upon the mountains, and the beautiful vales they enclosed, and listening to the wild notes of a shepherd boy, whose daily occupation was to watch a few sheep and goats upon a neighbouring hill, and whose song still rings in my ears as one of the most melodious sounds I ever heard. The sketch which faces this page, was taken from the window of the study.

Domesticated thus with a Vaudois family, living as they lived, keeping their hours, and established in the midst of mountains and mountaineers, the time which we passed here may safely be pronounced to be among the happiest of our life. We breakfasted early, dined at two o'clock, rising from table immediately that the dinner was over, and supped at nine. Our dinners consisted generally of potage, a small piece of beef or veal, not remarkable for fatness or flavour, poultry, trout caught in the Pelice, and some preparations of