with red stripes here and there; the men more acute and quicker-eyed. Arrived at Domo d'Ossola at 3; got into a clean though poor inn, and dined well. A gendarme came in to ask how it was that my passport had not been viséd yet; and then, seeing I was a physician, requested a cure for his toothache. It is useless to describe the picturesque: the best page to turn to for it is the memory. After one of the most comfortable fireside-evenings I have had since I left Geneva I went to bed at 712.
September 28.—Set off at 6 o'clock through vine-country, with little hills here and there starting out of the low Alps, highly cultivated, with beautiful little white villas at their tops and sides. Asked a woman what was a house whereon was painted a Democritus, Diogenes, etc. Answered, "È roba antica"[1]—though evidently modern, but deserted. Indeed, the whole of the houses seem too large for the inhabitants—much falling to ruin. From Domo d'Ossola went to Vella; to Vagagna, where I breakfasted and saw the first good-looking Italian girl. The children are pretty, the women quite otherwise. There began to suffer from my feet so much as that to go about six more miles took me five hours. No car passed me, or anything.
I arrived at last at Ornavasco. Could get no car,
- ↑ "It's an old affair."
