originally we had intended devoting ourselves entirely to the French
architecture of Normandy and Brittany. Then we grew ambitious, and
stretched our imaginations to Paris. Then the longing for a snowy
mountain waxed, and the love of French Gothic waned, and we
determined to explore the French Alps. Then we thought that we must
just step over them and take a peep into Italy, and so, disdaining
to return by the road we had already travelled, we would cut off the
north-west corner of Italy, and cross the Alps again into
Switzerland, where, of course, we must see the cream of what was to
be seen; and then thinking it possible that our three weeks and our
five-and-twenty pounds might be looking foolish, we would return,
via Strasburg to Paris, and so to Cambridge. This plan we
eventually carried into execution, spending not a penny more money,
nor an hour's more time; and, despite the declarations which met us
on all sides that we could never achieve anything like all we had
intended, I hope to be able to show how we did achieve it, and how
anyone else may do the like if he has a mind. A person with a good
deal of energy might do much more than this; we ourselves had at one
time entertained thoughts of going to Rome for two days, and thence
to Naples, walking over the Monte St. Angelo from Castellamare to
Amalfi (which for my own part I cherish with fond affection, as
being far the most lovely thing that I have ever seen), and then
returning as with a Nunc Dimittis, and I still think it would have
been very possible; but, on the whole, such a journey would not have
been so well, for the long tedious road between Marseilles and Paris
would have twice been traversed by us, to say nothing of the sea
journey between Marseilles and Civita Vecchia. However, no more of
what might have been, let us proceed to what was.

If on Tuesday, June 9 [i.e. 1857], you leave London Bridge at six