at a certain age be sent for life, and supported at the expense of their own communes. Each commune would then find it their own interest to establish and enforce, as a mere matter of economy, such strict sanitary and physical regulations as would strike at the root of the evil. The asylums would afford a most valuable though painful field for the study of this fearful disease of mind and body, and their establishment under proper surveillance could no more be regarded as an infringement of the laws of human liberty, than our own invaluable lunatic and idiot asylums.

In the Val d'Aosta, however, crétinism and goître are from habit hardly regarded as calamities. As Juvenal, in his day, says

"Quis tumidum guttur miratur in Alpibus ?"

so now no one cares for it to be known that he has brothers or sisters crétins, and the goître is so universal that it seems. to be considered as a necessity, and the absence of it rather a subject of pleasantry. Crétins are made constant sport of, and baited for amusement by every one a little better than themselves; and though this strikes a stranger painfully, I ultimately came to the conclusion that the poor creatures rather liked the attention.

From the meadow under the Tour du Lépreux I got a sketch of it and the old Roman walls, with the Tour de Bramafam in the background. The band of a regiment of Sardinian Chasseurs was playing merrily while the troops were exercising in the parade ground just outside the Decuman Gate.

Xavier de Maistre died in 1852 at St. Petersburg, having entered the Russian service on the French invasion, and attained the rank of general. He came to Aosta in 1793, where he resided five years, during which time he formed a passionate attachment to a Madame de Collaret, a widow of great personal attractions, who, though she did not marry him, seems to have exercised a strong influence over

him in after life, and is introduced in his story as the young bride whose happiness so deeply affected the poor leper. He lived to the good age of 89, his mind fresh and full of romance until late in life; and his sentiments may be gathered from a letter at the age of 65 to his old love, his "chère Elise," in which he says-"Le mal et le bien ne sont jamais à notre disposition; tout l'art de la vie consiste à tirer le meilleur parti des circonstances forcées dans lesquelles on se trouve "-no bad philosophy if rightly carried out.

Our last day at Aosta was devoted to completing our outfit, deciding on what could be dispensed with, and reducing all to the smallest compass. Everything superfluous we

sent on in the two cases, by Châtillon, Ivrea, and Biella, en route to Varallo; at the two former of which places it was to await us a certain number of days, to enable us to deposit accumulated specimens, or replenish our wardrobe. Some portable provisions were requisite to provide against probable emergencies; and accordingly we made a round of the shops of Aosta, amongst them the bookseller's, of whose stock in trade literature formed an infinitesimal part; some notebooks we got were bound, shame be it said, in vellum leaves from fine old illuminated missals. Provisions were remarkably cheap; we laid in a bag of rice, sugar, and cinnamon and spices for mulling bad wine. Peaches were plentiful at 10 sous, or 5d., a lb. ; and sound Aostan wine, notwithstanding the prevalence of the vine disease, might be had at 1 franc 10 sous, or 15d., a bottle. One of the most useful purchases we made was an Italian sausage, a slice or two of which often afterwards gave a relish to a hard crust, when nothing else was to be had.

Aosta has an excellent apothecary's-shop, the Pharmacie Gallesio, where I got an unguent, "Saponule Ammoniacale de Steers," which gave immediate relief to the sprain from which I had been suffering, and I can highly recommend it

H

to the pedestrian in like cases. The Frères Gallesio informed me that they kept Holloway's ointment if I preferred it, and we were amused to see half a side of the Aostan papers covered with flaming advertisements of its virtues, accompanied with a hideous list of unnameable disorders in which it was certified to be infallible on the authority of the "Lord Maire" of London! There was some difficulty in getting a circular note cashed, there being no correspondent nearer than Turin; but at last that was effected by making the payment of the landlord's bill dependant on it; the money was soon forthcoming, and I took it in the new gold 10-franc pieces, which were very useful and portable. In the Val d'Aosta a napoleon is universally called a "marengo."

The only remaining want was a mule for the journey. A peasant from Valpelline, Créton by name, who came in to Aosta to market, was brought to me as a likely person. He agreed to send a proper muleteer and mule by 5 in the morning, so that we might easily reach the last châlets above Valpelline before night, and have time to see the mines at Ollomont on the way. Everything was now arranged, and we hoped to accomplish the pass of the Col de Chermontane, and visit the glaciers, which we had been unable to do from Orsières. We then purposed, after exploring both reaches of the Val Pellina, to try and effect a passage from it over into the Val St. Barthélemy, and from thence to the Val Tournanche. The weather was unbroken, a brilliant moon shone above the Becca de Nona, as we took our last evening stroll in the Place, and our good fortune in cloudless skies and fair weather seemed likely to continue.

CHAPTER VII.

VAL PELLINA. - VAL D'OLLOMONT. —VAL DE BIONA.

Mule, muleteer, and baggage-Start for Val Pellina - Views above Aosta - Rovent and trout-stream-Valpelline - Difficulties - Copper-smelting works - Ollomont - Mines-Night at the Châlets of By - Smuggling Alpine life- Bed in the hay - Fenêtre de Chermontane Glacier scenes- Return to Valpelline - Hospitality - Ascent of Val de Biona - Quarters at the Cure's-Châlets of Prerayen.

THE mule promised by Créton from Valpelline did not make its appearance until so long after the time that we began to imagine we had been deceived. When it did arrive, we found the owner, who accompanied it, such a surly independent fellow, that we seemed no nearer a start than before. He declared first that he could not, and then that he would not pack the saddle-bags on the mule, and that we must get an additional one for them-giving the mule a kick and a sharp jerk on the bit, by way of illustrating his temperament. He soon, however, discovered it was of no use, as I told him he might pack them forthwith, or go back without us; when he sullenly helped me to cord and strap them on-while the fat cook in his white cap and apron, and a group of ragged crétins, looked on.

We were now in marching order for the remainder of our tour, having nothing more with us than what was barely necessary for the next two months. The two saddle-bags contained all miscellaneous requisites, while our wardrobe, the cooking apparatus, spare wraps, plaid, and herbarium fitted into the waterproof saddle-case fastened behind the saddle, and lying securely on the back of the mule. I had had the saddle edge furnished with a number of rings to

which to append various little matters of convenience, and to receive the cords which made all secure and steady. A side-saddle thus loaded-however small the baggage may be -requires much care and nicety to adjust its balance; very much of the rider's comfort and safety, as well as the ease of the mule, depending on its firmness. I invariably had to pack everything myself, as each of our muleteers in turn seemed to have so little notion of doing such matters neatly and handily, that if I ever left it to them I always had to do it again myself; generally finding they had used up all the straps and cords in absurd knots before the packing was half done. The weight of all, on starting, was not more than 60 lbs., which-as E. generally walked half the day, and always down the descents—was a mere nothing for a mule.

At length we got off at eight o'clock, leaving Aosta by the Porte Pertuis, and by the shady trees and gardens outside the city. We had lost the cool of the morning, and the broiling sun poured down on us with full power as we climbed the vineyard terraces above Aosta, on the Gignod road. We had a noble view from them of the beautifully situated city and the wonderfully rich and lovely valley in which it is embosomed; the Doire sweeping through it in a long sinuous line from west to east; among bright meadows, groves of trees, and wooded slopes, vineyards, and maize fields. In the midst of this rich scene, the campaniles and white houses of the city of Augustus stood enclosed within the distinct quadrangular outline of the old Roman walls, surmounted by the battlemented towers of the middle ages-now in their turn ruins. Majestic ranges of mountains, and distant glaciers, encircled the whole, as if to guard the happy valley from the intrusion of all that might mar its beauty or repose; and yet fair and Edenlike as it seemed from here—we knew too well the hideous curse that hung over its inhabitants-a deformity of mind and reason, as well as of body, degrading thousands of them to a level almost below that of brutes.