to this very Arona it is that the Austrians have been crossing to
commence their attack on Sardinia. I fear these next summer nights
will not be broken with the voice of much singing and that we shall
have to hush for the roaring of cannon.

I never knew before how melodiously frogs can croak--there is a
sweet guttural about some of these that I never heard in England:
before going to bed, I remember particularly one amorous batrachian
courting malgre sa maman regaled us with a lusciously deep rich
croak, that served as a good accompaniment for the shrill whizzing
sound of the cigales.

My space is getting short, but fortunately we are getting on to
ground better known; I will therefore content myself with sketching
out the remainder of our tour and leaving the reader to Murray for
descriptions.

We left Arona with regret on Thursday morning (June 18), took
steamer to the Isola Bella, which is an example of how far human
extravagance and folly can spoil a rock, which had it been left
alone would have been very beautiful, and thence by a little boat
went to Baveno; thence we took diligence for Domo d'Ossola; the
weather clouded towards evening and big raindrops beginning to
descend we thought it better to proceed at once by the same
diligence over the Simplon; we did not care to walk the pass in wet,
therefore leaving Domo d'Ossola at ten o'clock that night we arrived
at Iselle about two; the weather clearing we saw the gorge of Gondo
and walked a good way up the pass in the early morning by the
diligence; breakfasted at Simplon at four o'clock in the morning,
and without waiting a moment as soon as we got out at Brieg set off