Shortly below Prali the clouds drew off, or rather we reached a
lower level, so that they were above us, and now the walnut and the
chestnut, the oak and the beech have driven away the pines of the
other side, not that there were many of them; soon, too, the
vineyards come in, the Indian corn again flourishes everywhere, the
cherries grow ripe as we descend, and in an hour or two we felt to
our great joy that we were fairly in Italy.
The descent is steep beyond compare, for La Tour, which we reached
by four o'clock, is quite on the plain, very much on a level with
Turin--I do not remember any descent between the two--and the pass
cannot be much under eight thousand feet.
Passports are asked at Bobbio, but the very sight of the English
name was at that time sufficient to cause the passport to be
returned unscrutinised.
La Tour is a Protestant place, or at any rate chiefly so, indeed all
the way from Cervieres we have been among people half Protestant and
half Romanist; these were the Waldenses of the Middle Ages, they are
handsome, particularly the young women, and I should fancy an honest
simple race enough, but not over clean.
As a proof that we were in Italy we happened while waiting for table
d'hote to be leaning over the balcony that ran round the house and
passed our bedroom door, when a man and a girl came out with two
large pails in their hands, and we watched them proceed to a cart
with a barrel in it, which was in a corner of the yard; we had been
wondering what was in the barrel and were glad to see them commence
tapping it, when lo! out spouted the blood-red wine with which they
actually half filled their pails before they left the spot.
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