ard career, gives a swing at
each, as if it would cut short the passage into Italy, and land the
passenger, sooner than he wishes, at the bottom. At length, after four
hours' riding, the descent is accomplished. The scene has changed in the
twinkling of an eye. The plain is as level as a floor. The warm
sun,--the brilliant sky,--the luxuriant vines,--the handsome
architecture,--the picturesque costumes,--the dark oval faces, and black
fiery eyes of the natives,--all tell you that it is a new world into
which you have entered,--that this is ITALY.

CHAPTER III.

RISK AND PROGRESS OF CONSTITUTIONALISM IN PIEDMONT.

First Entrance into Italy--Never can be Repeated--The Cathedral of
Turin--The Royal Palace--The Museum--Egyptian
Mummies--Reflections--Landmark of the Vaudois Valleys--Piedmontese
House of Commons--Piedmontese Constitution--Perils that surrounded
it--Providentially shielded from these--Numbers and Wealth of the
Priesthood--Want of Public Opinion--Rise of a Free Press--Its
Power--The _Gazetta del Popolo_--The Bible quoted by the
Journalists--The flourishing State of the Country--The Waldensian
Temple and Congregation--Workmen's Clubs--The Capuchin Monastery--A
Capuchin Friar--Sunset.

One can enter Italy for the first time only once. For, however often we
may climb the Alps, and tread the land that lies stretched out at their
base, it is with a cold pulse, compared with the fever of excitement
into which we are thrown by the first touch of that soil. The charm is
flown; the tree of knowledge has been plucked; and never more can we
taste the dreamy yet intense delight which attended the first unfolding
of the gates of the Alps, and the first rising of the fair vision of
Italy.

In truth, the Italy which one comes to see on his second visit is not
the Italy that first drew him across the Alps. That was the Italy of
history, or rather of his own imagination. The fair form his fancy was
wont to conjure up, draped in the glowing recollections of empire and of
arms, and encompassed with the halo of heroic deeds, he can see no more.
There meets him, on the other side of the Alps, a vision very unlike
this. The Italy of the Caesars is gone; and where she sat is now a poor,
naked, cowering thing, with a chain upon her arm,--the Italy of the
Popes. But the fascination attends the traveller some short way into
that land. Indeed, he is loath to lose it, and wou