ghost-like procession, which was
interrupted only by the arrival of the _diligence_ at the various
stages, where we had to endure long, weary halts. So passed the night.
At the first dawn we entered Novara. It lay, spread out on the dusky
plain, an irregular patch of black, with the clear, silvery crescent of
a moon hanging above it.

CHAPTER VII.

THE INTRODUCTION.

Novara--Examination of Passports--Dawn--Monks prefer Dim Light to
Clear--Battle of Novara, and its Results--The
Ticino--Croats--Austrian Frontier and Dogana--Examination of Books
and Baggage--Grandeur of the Alps from this Point--Contrast betwixt
the Rivers and the Governments of Italy--Proof from thence of the
Fall--Providence "from seeming Evil educing Good"--Rich but
Monotonous Scenery of the Plain--Youth of the Alps, and Decay of
the Lombard nations--The only Remedy--An Expelled Democrat--First
View of Milan.

Novara, of course, like all decent towns in Lombardy and elsewhere, at
four in the morning was a-bed, and our heavy vehicle, as its harsh
echoes broke roughly on the silent streets, sounded strangely loud. We
were driven right into a courtyard, to have our passports examined. We
had left Turin the evening before, with a clean bill of political
health, duly certified by three legations,--the Sardinian, the English,
and the Austrian; and in so short a journey--not to speak of the flood
and fire we had passed through--it was scarce possible that we could
have contracted fresh pollution. We were examined anew, however, lest
the plague-spot should have broken out upon us. All was found right, and
we were let go to a neighbouring restaurant, where we swallowed a cup of
coffee,--our only meal betwixt Turin and Milan. After a full hour's
halt, we re-mounted the _diligence_, and set forth.

On emerging from the streets of the city, I found the east in the glow
of dawn. Still, and pure, and calm broke the light; and under its ray
the rich plain awoke into beauty, forgetful of the fiery bolts which had
smitten it, and the darkness and destruction which had so lately passed
across it. "Hail, holy light!" exclaims the bard of "Paradise." Yes,
light is holy. It is undefiled and pure, as when "God saw the light that
it was good." Man has ravaged the earth and reddened the seas; but light
has escaped his contaminating touch, and is still as God made it,
unless, indeed, when man imprisons it within the sta