From this place onward, our passports were several times demanded and our trunks opened, apparently for no other reason than that of exacting a fee, to support the swarms of custom-house officers and soldiers, who are everywhere seen lounging along the road. It is impossible there can be smuggling among petty villages of this kind; and the vexation of being stopped an hour, when the traveller is in haste, besides paying for being detained, becomes intolerable. From Antibes to Genoa, we were subjected to more delay than in the whole of France and England put

and expense,

together.

Between Mentone and Ventimiglia, the road traverses a beautiful strip of cultivation, extending from the Mediterranean to the foot of the Alps. In some cases the mountains push themselves in high rocky capes far into the sea; and at others, they recede from the coast, leaving little alluvial plains, smiling with tillage, and abounding with corn and fruits of various kinds. A fringe of olives uniformly skirts the bases of the hills, and forms a striking contrast with the barren peaks towering above. Some of these little vales opening from the Alps are extremely picturesque, enclosed by impassable ramparts, on all sides except the south, enjoying a delicious climate, rich in rural wealth, retired from the rest of the world, and blest with unbroken quiet. The inhabitants who are plain, simple, and mild in their manners, appear to be contented and happy, looking out from their solitudes upon the blue and bright expanse of waters, which beat upon their rocks, and roll in with grandeur upon their shores. Most of these valleys are washed by torrents, several of which we crossed during the day. Over one of them is thrown a new stone bridge, called the Pont St. Louis, whence you look down into a frightful chasm, formed by an amphitheatre of perpendicular cliffs.

At Ventimiglia, a considerable town occupying a steep and almost inaccessible promontory, about 40 miles from Nice, the road passable with carriages terminates, and what Madam Starke calls " a bridle path" extends to Noli, within half a day's ride of Genoa. Here therefore without much regret, we were compelled to quit the carriage, such as it was, and resort to the still more humble conveyance of riding upon ponies for a long journey of two days. A donkey was employed to carry our baggage. The poor little fellow had a monstrous load of it, with two large trunks for a foundation,

and a superstructure of sacks, hat cases, cloaks, and umbrellas, seeming sufficient to overwhelm him, as he was not much larger than a sheep. But Sardo (for so his master called him) bore his burden with patience, and heavy as it was, would permit neither Nina nor her sister pony to lead the way which he had travelled a thousand times.

The muleteer walked the whole distance, upwards of a hundred miles in two days, without complaining of fatigue, being constantly employed in traversing the same route on foot. He was a faithful and kind hearted guide, frequently collecting and presenting to us bouquets of wild-flowers, which bloomed by the side of the path. A singular incident occurred to him on the route. One of his acquaintances from Genoa, whom he met on the road, gave him the first intelligence, that his only brother had just been drowned on the coast of Spain. After stopping for some time, he overtook us, bathed in tears, and frantic with grief. He tore his pocket handkerchief in pieces and flung it away: then stripping off his cravat, he alternately drenched it in tears, and washed it in the rivulets along the road.

At 4 o'clock in the afternoon, we reached San Remo, and although the weather was delightfully pleasant, and we were anxious to pursue our journey, our conducteur refused to go farther on that day; we therefore took lodgings for the night at the Hotel de la Palma, which was more spacious and comfortable, than the frightful accounts of this route had led us to anticipate. On its top is a fine terrace, covered with flowers, and overlooking the town, with the Alps on one side, and the sea upon the other. As good a table and attendance were here found, as the most fastidious traveller could wish. In the waiter, for the first time was observed the custom of wishing you good evening, as he brings in the lights. A peculiarity still more striking arrested our attention some days before. One of our party in the coach happening to sneeze, the gentleman who sat next to him raised his hat, and sung out "viva!" This custom is generally in vogue, and seems to be founded in the supposition, that sneezing is an indication of bad health, calling for the sympathy and good wishes of others. It probably originated with the Roman augurs, who placed sternutation among the Dira, whence they drew their omens.

As an evidence of the mildness of the climate along the coast of the Mediterranean, it may be mentioned that a dish

of green peas was among the rarities on the table at the hotel. They were served up raw, in the pod, by way of desert. Oranges just plucked from the gardens, with the leaves green upon the stem, were found in profusion. Great quantities of them are raised for exportation. In short, San Remo, although situated on the very declivity of the Alps, is in the midst of one of the most flowery and delicious regions I have ever visited. The air was fragrant even at this early season. and luxuriant groves of the citron and orange, interspersed with the purple blossom of the peach, everywhere met the eye. San Remo contains two or three pretty churches, a large hospital, and other public buildings, by no means deficient in taste or mean in appearance. A little port, defended by a We had a delightful ramble

mole, spreads before the town. at evening along the beach, to see the sun set upon the nountains, and to watch the swells of the sea breaking and murmuring upon the shore. The waters of the Mediterranean are so exquisitely beautiful, that one is never tired of gazingupon the azure expanse, or of listening to the surge as it beats upon the rocks. There is a sort of loneliness along this road, which seems to deepen the murmur of the waves, and which inclines the traveller to seek what Byron calls companionship with the great objects of nature.

In our rambles through the town, we witnessed one of those pictures, which are but too common in this country. A company of perhaps fifty females were employed in carrying baskets of sand upon their heads, to mend the road, while a large party of men, consisting probably of their husbands and brothers, were engaged in playing ball near by. and a group of priests and friars were looking on! In every part of the continent of Europe we have vet visited, woman is made the drudge of life, on whom all its servile offices devolve, reminding one of the aboriginal state of society in our own country. By the indolence or tyranny of the other sex, she is driven from her little sphere of domestic cares, and compelled to undergo toils fit only for beasts of burden. Even in France, polished, gallant France, the land of chivalry and love, ten thousand instances of the degradation and slavery of females strike the mind of the traveller with indignation.

We left San Remo at daylight the next morning, and pursued our journey along the shores of the Mediterranean, through numerous little white villages, which stud the coast, and render it extremely picturesque, contrasted with the long tracts

of olives at the foot of the Alps, and the unpeopled solitudes to the north. The scenery during our ride this forenoon assumed a bolder and wilder character, the valleys becoming less fertile, and the mountains more savage, often terminating upon the sea in abrupt crags of lime-stone. Half a dozen torrents were crossed, which open in deep gorges from the hills, and at certain seasons are swept by impetuous floods. The broad, rocky channels, strewed with the ruins of the mountains, prove that this district, mild as the climate now was, is sometimes scourged by the elements

The asperities of this route, and the mode of conveyance to which travellers are obliged to resort, seemed sufficiently arduous for the rougher sex, and it occasioned in us not a little surprise to find, that ladies are sometimes sufficiently adventurous to encounter the difficulties of the way. Between Port Maurice and Oneglia, we overtook a well dressed and genteel looking woman, who appeared to be an Italian, mounted on horse-back, with a cavalier and a train of servants behind. She however so far dispensed with female delicacy, as to assume that posture upon the saddle, which she deemed the most secure; and her looks did not indicate, that she was at all conscious of any impropriety, in planting a foot in each stirrup.

From the brow of Monte Diana, a lofty promontory round which the path winds, some miles beyond Oneglia, we had a first and most splendid view of the Apennines, across the Gulf of Genoa, at the distance of eighty or a hundred miles. The long range was visible from the head of the Gulf to a point which our guide thought must be as far south as Florence. Their lofty summits were covered with snow, and almost exactly resembled white, fleecy clouds reposing in

the verge of the horizon. A more magnificent prospect

can scarcely be imagined, than was afforded by this interminable chain of mountains, awakening the historical associations and the classic dreams of boyhood;-the dim line of coast stretching at their bases;-the deep azure sea spreading on this side; and the whole picture brightened by the unclouded splendours of noon-day. Under the cliffs many hundred feet beneath us, numerous vessels were seen, spreading their white sails to the breeze, and journeying on to different ports. Among these was a brig-of-war, constituting something like the tenth part of the naval force of his Sardinian Majesty.

Passing the villages of Longuella and Allassio, perched upon the acclivities of the Alps, we descended just at evening into the Vale of Albenga, which is the largest traversed on this route, and is watered by a considerable stream. It is four or five miles wide, where it opens upon the sea; and the eye is enabled to follow its windings for a long distance to the left, till it is lost among the hills. Several small villages, each of which shows a steeple or two, are seated along the sides of the vale, presenting a charming picture of happy rusticity and rural quiet. The formation of the hills is here a reddish sand-stone, and nothing can surpass either the fertility of the soil or the exactness of the tillage. Fields resembling extensive gardens for many miles border upon the road, and produce corn, wine, and fruits in abundance. The peasantry were just returning from their daily labours, bearing the implements of husbandry, with cheerful and contented faces; while the smiling landscape bore witness to their honest industry. At the outlet of the vale, stands the town of Albenga, which is one of the most considerable upon the coast, and the seat of a Bishop.*

We had hoped to reach Finale to-day, where good accommodations are to be had; but a heavy show er, which poured in torrents, and the approach of night compelled us to seek lodgings at a miserable dirty tavern in the little village of Pietro. We were drenched to the skin, and the only fire to be had was a pan of charcoals, the fumes of which poisoned the air of the small chambers. So despatching our supper,

* The romantic region about Albenga, and indeed the whole coast between Nice and Genoa, appears to have been, in the middle ages, the scene of chivalrous adventures, which the natural features of the district are so well calculated to inspire. Vaqueiras, a valiant Knight and Troubadour, who accompanied the Marquis of Montferrat to the Holy Land, in the fourth Crusade, thus recounts, in one of the rhapsodies addressed to his patron, a high achievement which was performed by them, between Finale and Albenga, on their way back from Palestine to Provence, at the commencement of the 13th century:

"Do you remember," says he, "the Jongleur Aimonet, who brought you news of Jacobina, when she was on the point of being carried into Sardinia, and married to a man she disliked? Do you also remember how, on bidding you farewell, she threw herself into your arms, and besought you, in such moving terms, to protect her against the injustice of her uncle? You immediately ordered five of your bravest esquires to mount. We rode all night, after supper. With my own hand I bore her from the domain, amidst an universal outcry. They pursued us, horse and foot; we fled, at full speed; and we already thought ourselves out of danger, when we were attacked by the knights of Pisa. With so many cavaliers pressing close