morsels they gave him with such dexterous
rapidity, it was as good as juggling.

Refuges and the Hospice came in sight one after the other, and while
waiting to change horses one had time to wonder how the people living
there managed to be such a stolid, dirty, thriftless-looking set.
Mountaineers should be intelligent, active, and hardy; but these men
were a most ungainly crew, and Lavinia's theories got a sad blow.

A bad dinner at Simplon would have been an affliction at any other time;
but with the Valley of Gondo for dessert, no one cared for other food.
Following the wild stream that had worn its way between the immense
cliffs, they drove rapidly down towards Italy, feeling that this was a
fit gateway to the promised land.

At Iselle, on the frontier, they enacted a little farce for the benefit
of the custom-house officers. Lavinia and Amanda had old passports, and
had been told they would be needed. Mat had none, so she was ordered to
try the _role_ of maid. Before they arrived, she took out her ear-rings,
tied up her curls under a dingy veil, put on a waterproof, and tried to
assume the demure air of an Abigail.

When they alighted, she was left to guard the wraps in the carriage
while the others went with the luggage, expecting to have much trouble;
for all manner of hindrances had been predicted owing to the unsettled
state of the country. Nothing could be simpler, however; no passports
were demanded, a very careless search of luggage, and it was all over.
So Matilda threw off her disguise, and ascended the diligence in her
own character, for here, alas! they left the cozy little carriage with
the affable driver and the jingling bells.

Only two places could be found in the crowded diligences, and great was
the fuss till Amanda was invited up aloft by a friendly gentleman who
had a perch behind, large enough for two. There they discussed theology
and politics to their hearts' content, and at parting the worthy man cut
his book in two, and gave Amanda half that she might refresh herself
with a portion of some delightfully dry work on Druidical Remains,
Protoplasm, or the state of the church before the flood.

The force of contrast makes the charm of this entry into Italy; for,
after the grandeur of the Alps and the gloomy wildness of Gondo, the
smiling scene is doubly lovely as one drives down to Domo d'Ossola.
Weariness, hunger, and sleep were quite forgotten; and when our
travellers came to Lago Maggior