together; and such was the exultation of the fugitive duke on being made acquainted with Eugene's plan for the relief of his capital, that when he was asked where he would be pleased to dine-" à Torino, à Torino!" was the confident reply. hardy men, who have continued to maintain their religious independence against the supremacy of the church of Rome for more than a thousand years. Their situation in the heart of the wild and romantic valleys, which stretch along the eastern foot of the Cottian Alps and the Col de Sestrieres, first gave them the name of Vallenses, Waldenses, or Vaudois.—See Gilly's Vaudois. C 2 GENOA. Horridos tractus, Boreæque linquens Regna Taurini fera, molliorem Advehor brumam, Genuæque amantes Litora soles.-GRAY. In our way from Turin to Genoa, we passed the night at Asti, celebrated as the birth-place of Alfieri, and still more, perhaps, for the wine to which it gives name. A fog, dense enough to compare with a November fog in London, accompanied us on the following morning till we reached the Tanaro, a considerable river, on the banks of which stands Alessandria*. The citadel is said to be of great strength, and this strength it owes, in some measure, to the ease with which the waters of the Tanaro may be turned into the ditches by which it is surrounded. Not far from Alessandria we passed Marengo, an inconsiderable village. Our road lay across the very spot where the greatest slaughter took place: there was * The epithet Della Paglia is frequently applied to Alessandria; some say because the emperor elect was usually crowned there with a diadem of straw; others, because the inhabitants, for want of wood, are obliged to heat their ovens with straw! The inhabitants attribute the epithet to the fertility of the soil. formerly a stone to mark the site where a vast number of the Austrians were buried. Since the fall of Buonaparte, however, the stone has been removed; but we thought we could still distinguish a sensible swell in this part of the plain. The road from Novi to Genoa no longer crosses the Bocchetta; a new line of road having been formed through Arquata and Ronca. After a long but gradual ascent, during which our attention was frequently diverted by the beauty of the scenery from the execrable state of the roads, we arrived at the summit of the mountain which overlooks the Gulf of Genoa. On descending by the steep traverses on the side towards the sea, we soon perceived a marked difference in the temperature of the air; which was further indicated by the total absence of snow, the appearance of the fig-tree, and the presence of a number of bare-legged children. During the whole of our journey we had seen but few people employed on the roads, nor any other implement made use of than the long-handled triangular spade, so common in Italy-an implement which seemed generally to be wielded with a degree of listlessness worthy of its awkward form. Genoa is strongly fortified: it stands on a fine semicircular basın, at the foot of an amphitheatre of lofty hills, which inclose it on all sides down to the sea-shore. Along the summit of the chain, and following it in all its undulations, runs the outer wall, several miles in length. Within this is another wall, inclosing the city toward the sea as well as toward the land, and opening to the harbour by well-defended gates. Till within these few years, there was but one line of communication between Genoa and the rest of Italy-the pass of the Bocchetta. The sea was her element, and by that channel was the wealth of the world poured into her harbour-a harbour, however, which, during the prevalence of the south-west wind, is far from being secure. Genoa seems to have been built only for foot passengers: the Strada Balbi, and the Strada Nuova, are the only two streets wide enough for a carriage of any sort. The rest of the city consists of narrow alleys, closely crowded together; a circumstance accounted for by the precipitous nature of the country; the mountains at the back running down in steep declivities to the very edge of the town. Thus, though nothing can be more splendid than the two principal streets, lined as they are by the most magnificent palaces of the Genoese nobility; yet, on striking off from these into the narrower lanes, as a man must necessarily do to get at the more bustling parts of the city, he runs good risk of being knocked down by some laden mule, whose wine barrels or panniers, projecting far on either side, force him at least to take refuge under the first open door-way he can find. Bettinelli has well hit off the appearance of Genoa as seen from the sea: Ecco! vediam la maestosa immensa Città, che al mar le sponde, il dorso ai monti Occupa tutta, e tutta a cerchio adorna. Navi contemplo, e a poco a poco in alto Cupole e torri, il guardo ergendo a l'ampie Girevol mura triplicate, i chiusi A luogo a luogo, e i ben posti ripari, Ammiro intorno: inusitata intanto Vaghezza a l'occhio, e bell' intreccio fanno Col torreggiar de l'appuntate moli. Our own Gray, too, has given a sketch equally graphic "Figure to yourself," says he, "a vast semicircular basin, full of fine blue sea, and vessels of all sorts and sizes, some sailing out, some coming in, and others at anchor; and all around it palaces and churches peeping over one another's heads-gardens, and marble terraces full of orange and cypress trees-fountains, and trelliswork covered with vines." Such is Genoa viewed from the sea; save that in Bettinelli's sketch, the palaces and villas figure, perhaps, too little; in that of Gray, "the vessels of all sorts and sizes," a good deal too much. The harbour now no longer exhibits the bustle and animation which these words would lead one to expect. But the palaces, to which Genoa owed the epithet of Proud, the villas which occupy the most beautiful points of view on the slopes of the hills, still form the most prominent feature in the landscape. The palaces are no longer faced, as formerly, with black and white marble |