From Aiguebelle to St Jean de Maurienne is twelve leagues, and I found myself so tired with walking, and my legs from being swelled gave me so much pain, that I determined to give up the gloriole of making the whole journey on foot as I intended and to remain here for two days to repose and then profit by the first conveyance that might pass to conduct me to Turin.

From Aiguebelle the valley becomes still more narrow, and there is a continual ascent, tho’ it is so gentle as scarcely to be perceptible.  Every spot of ground in this valley, which will admit of cultivation, is put to profit by the industry of the inhabitants.  Here one sees beans, indian corn, and even wines; for the heat is very great indeed in summer and autumn, owing to the rays of the sun being concentrated, as it were, into a focus, in this narrow valley, and were the bed of the Isere to be deepened, or were it less liable to overflow, from the melting of the snow in spring and summer, much land, which is now a marsh, might be applied to agricultural purposes.  The inhabitants of this valley regret very much the separation of Savoy from France, as during the time that Duchy was annexed to the French Empire, each peasant possessing an ass could earn three franks per diem in transporting merchandise across Mont-Cenis.  St Jean de Maurienne is a neat little town.  I put up at the same inn, and slept in the same bedroom which was occupied by poor Didier who was put to death at Grenoble for having raised the standard of liberty.  He was surprized here in bed by the Carabiniere Reali of the Sardinian government, those satellites of despotism; and according to the barbarous principles laid down by the crowned heads, delivered over to the French authorities.  I observed a great many cretins in this valley.

SUZA, 10th August.

On the morning of the 8th August two vetturini passed by the inn at St Jean de Maurienne, and I engaged a place in one of them, as far as Turin.  We arrived at the village of Modena in the evening.  The landscape is much the same as what we have hitherto passed, but the climate is considerably colder, from the land being more elevated.  Hitherto I had suffered much inconvenience from the heat.  The next morning we reached Lans-le-Bourg, the last town of Savoy lying at the foot of Mount Cenis.

After breakfast we began the ascent of Mont Cenis, and I made the whole way from Lans-le-Bourg to the Hospice of Mont Cenis, that is, the whole ascent, a distance of twenty-five Italian miles, on foot.  This chaussee is another wonderful piece of work of Napoleon; a broad carriage road, wide enough for three carriages to go abreast, and cut zig-zag with so gentle a slope as to allow a heavy French diligence to pass, with the utmost ease, across a mountain where it was formerly thought impossible a wheel could ever run.  This chaussee is passable at all seasons of the year; the mountain