route, and I know no town in the North of Italy which is so closely
surrounded by beautiful scenery. The traveller as he falls down to it
from the Splugen road is bewildered by the loveliness of the valleys,-
-that is to say, if he so arranges that he can see them without
pressing his nose against the glass of a coach window. And then from
the town itself there are walks of two, three, and four hours, which I
think are unsurpassed for wild and sometimes startling beauties. One
gets into little valleys, green as emeralds, and surrounded on all
sides by grey broken rocks, in which Italian Rasselases might have
lived in perfect bliss; and then again one comes upon distant views up
the river courses, bounded far away by the spurs of the Alps, which
are perfect,--to which the fancy can add no additional charm.
Conradi's hotel also is by no means bad; or was not in those days.
For my part I am inclined to think that Italian hotels have received a
worse name than they deserve; and I must profess that, looking merely
to creature comforts, I would much sooner stay a week at the Golden
Key at Chiavenna, than with mine host of the King's Head in the
thriving commercial town of Muddleboro, on the borders of Yorkshire
and Lancashire.

I am always rather keen about my room in travelling, and having
secured a chamber looking out upon the mountains, had returned to the
court-yard to collect my baggage before Mr. Greene had succeeded in
realising his position, or understanding that he had to take upon
himself the duties of settling his family for the night in the hotel
by which he was surrounded. When I descended he was stripping off the
outermost of three great coats, and four waiters around him were
beseeching him to tell them what accommodation he would require. Mr.
Greene was giving sundry very urgent instructions to the conductor
respecting his boxes; but as these were given in English, I was not