the old town of Susa, and begin to see something of Italian vegetation. Some of the erections still standing in Susa date farther back than the Christian era. A very high mountain which overhangs the town, affords, it is said, a splendid view of the fair plains of Italy; but we did not try it. Whole troops of pilgrims climb it annually on the 25th of August, to pay their vows at a small chapel on the top, erected to the Virgin by some wicked old Crusader.

After Susa we pass Rivoli, where is an unfinished palace that looks like some great Western hotel, perched upon a high bank on the right. Its only dignity and interest arise from the fact that it was the prison of a former king of Sardinia, who having once abdicated in favor of his son, wished, on second thoughts, to resume the sceptre. The reigning monarch, perhaps from having tried the harassing cares of royalty, decided at once that his father must be mad, and so shut him up lest he should bite other people. The poor king died soon after-and the palace stands a monument of his son's affectionate care. The present sovereign, his grandson, goes there occasionally, but not often; perhaps only when under the perplexities of his position he finds himself tempted by thoughts of the pleasures of private life.

TURIN.

THE entrance into Turin is the most monotonous possible. For six mortal miles a straight, level road, bordered by formal trees, leads to the city, the vista being

crowned by a hill on which stands a conspicuous building, called the Superga, which looks like a mosque, or still more, on its airy height, at a cloudy distance, like some of those half-defined edifices, of flowing outline, which imaginative artists picture when they would paint the invisible. It certainly has a mystical, unearthly look. It was erected by the same king who was afterwards locked up at Rivoli, in fulfilment of a vow which he had made when the French had possession of his city, in 1706. It is a monastery and basilica, or church of the first class, having a cupola and two campaniles of rather unusual form.

The great level road leads into as level a street, where, though there are no fortifications, you are not allowed to pass one step until you have given up your passport to some very ill-looking officials; and after you are in you are quite willing to be out, for a less interesting city than Turin can hardly be found. It is placed upon a dead level, and has no beauty of position. The streets are well paved, but not elegant, and at the time of our visit, the king being at the wars and the nobility with him, there were no equipages in the streets, and very little appearance of business or pleasure. We are sorry not to have come in time to see Carlo Alberto, who is quite an idol just now. All the world is for making him King of all Italy. Perhaps he is taking the most effectual way of bringing this about, by seeking military success. Italians, like their brother republicans across the water, are wonderfully fond of the heroism of steel and gunpowder. The opera was still maintained, and very elegantly, but there were hardly a hundred people to hear it.

The

We drove about the town, and saw the palaces and the

picture gallery, and the Cavallo di Marmo, an equestrian statue of which the horse is the best part. Turin is proud of her bridges. The Po and the Dora Susina flow past or through the city, and there is a fine range of hills beyond, on which are many beautiful villas. But the glory of Turin is the Santo Sudario-a fragment of the "shroud" in which our Lord's body was wrapped by Joseph of Arimathea, with the impress of the body upon it. This precious article, which was first deposited at Chambéry, has a splendid chapel to itself, rich with gold, silver and precious stones. It is exhibited to the people only on great occasions. Francis I. adored it at Chambéry, and it was brought to Turin in order that St. Carlo Borromeo might have the benefit of doing so without crossing the Alps. This particular portion of the holy garment, of which other folds are preserved in other Catholic cities, was brought from Cyprus, in 1453. There is nothing more curious, or more melancholy, than the history of relics.

Turin boasts half a dozen theatres, in one of which Alfieri's first tragedy was first represented. Theatres seem to be reckoned among the necessaries of life here. In the midst of war, when the country is groaning under its burthens, the splendors of the stage are no whit lessened, though a part of the expense is borne by the government. At least two hundred performers, at a rough guess, appeared in the Lombardi, and the dresses were new and magnificent in the extreme, while the house was almost empty. The audience talked à pleine voix all the time, so as really to drown the softer portion of the

music-a piece of barbarism which we did not anticipate meeting in Italy.

ALESSANDRIA.

WE left Turin at five, and rode all night in the Diligence again, over a flat and stupid road, passing Asti, where Alfieri was born, and coming at breakfast time to Alessandria, considered the strongest fortress in this part of Europe. In fact it is all fort; the town seems a mere incident, and it is so situated as to be easily isolated by means of the River Tanaro. Here we breakfasted, at the dirtiest and most disagreeable of hotels, where the coffee and bread were only a little worse than the people who waited on us. The incivility we experienced at the Albergo Nuovo, in this strange looking place, is the single instance, hitherto, of anything but the most solicitous attention at the hotels. The servants appeared to have imbibed the belligerent spirit of the town.

The mention of Alessandria reminds me that I have ungratefully neglected all mention of the small carpet-bag, which is one's best friend in this sort of halting, desultory travel, when it is desirable to have the attention as little taken up by insignificant wants as possible. As I have undertaken to give advice in some particulars, it would be unpardonable to omit it in this; and I proceed at once to counsel every petticoated voyager who does not travel in her own commodious and pocket-lined carriage, to provide herself at the very outset of the tour with one of

these unpretending conveniences. It must be of carpet, strong and well made and bottomed with stout leather; with a good lock and key-(not a padlock, which is troublesome ;) and as for size, if one has many petty wants, it should be eighteen inches long, by about a foot `in height. In this little world we can stow the night dress and a change or two in case of rain; the toilet apparatus, which should be composed of small sized articles, not fitted in a dressing-case, which is cumbrous and troublesome, and heavy, a matter to be considered, when luggage goes by weight; a little volume or two of poetry apropos to the road; a little bottle of cologne; some bonbons and lozenges; a box of wax matches, which serve for a light in case of alarm in the carriage during the night, as well as for use at the hotels, where they should always be kept at the bed-side; and various other matters which our daily wants will easily suggest.

Such a humble friend saves a vast deal of unpacking and re-packing when one is fatigued or hurried, and the comfort it affords on the road is still greater. For my own part, I would give the price of a courier for a carpet-bag, rather than travel without one. There is no substitute for it. Verdant people take baskets, and stylish people nice looking commodes of Russia leather; but it is all a delusion. Nothing serves so well the various purposes of pillow, cushion and footstool, as a bag, small enough to be taken in one's own hand upon occasion, for in nothing else of the same size can we stow so many useful articles. I shall always love mine and keep it as a relic; perhaps leave it by will to some dear friend.

Alessandria made me think of this sine qua non,

because