The next morning we proceeded on our journey till we reached Fariolo, which is on the northern extremity of the Lago Maggiore.  The road from Domo d’Ossola thro’ the villages of Ornavasso and Vagogna is thro’ a fertile and picturesque valley, or rather gorge, of the mountain, narrow at first, but which gradually widens as you approach to the lake.  The river Toso runs nearly in a parallel direction with the road.  The air is much milder than in Switzerland, and you soon perceive the change of climate from its temperature, as well as from the appearance of the vines and mulberry trees and Indian corn called in this country grano turco.

At Fariolo, after breakfast, my friend Zadera took leave of me and embarked his carriage on the lake in order to proceed to Lugano; and I who was bound to Milan, having hired a cabriolet, proceeded to Arona, after stopping one hour to refresh the horses at Belgirate.  The whole road from Fariolo to Arona is on the bank of the Lago Maggiore, and nothing can be more neat than the appearance of all these little towns which are solidly and handsomely built in the Italian taste.

Before I arrived at Arona, and at a distance of two miles from it, I stopped in order to ascend a height at a distance of one-eighth of a mile from the road to view the celebrated colossal statue in bronze of St Charles Borromaeus, which may be seen at a great distance.  It is seventy cubits high, situated on a pedestal of twenty feet, to ascend which requires a ladder.  You then enter between his legs, or rather the folds of his gown, and ascend a sort of staircase till you reach his head.  There is something so striking in the appearance of this black gigantic figure when viewed from afar, and still more when you are at the foot of it, that you would suppose yourself living in the time of fairies and enchanters, and it strongly reminded me of the Arabian Nights, as if the statue were the work of some Genie or Peri; or as if it were some rebel Genius transformed into black marble by Solomon the great Prophet.  I am not very well acquainted with the life and adventures of this Saint, but he was of the Borromean family, who are the most opulent proprietors of the Milanese.  Every tract of land, palace, castle, farm in the environs of Arona seem to belong to them.  If you ask whose estate is that? whose villa is that? whose castle is that? the answer is, to the Count Borromeo, who seems to be as universal a proprietor here as Nong-tong-paw at Paris or Monsieur Kaniferstane at Amsterdam.[53] Arona is a large, straggling but solidly built town, and presents nothing worth notice.

We proceeded on our journey the next morning.  Shortly after leaving Arona, the road diverges from the lake and traverses a thick wood until it reaches the banks of the Tessino; on the other bank of which, communicating by means of a flying bridge, stands the town of Sesto Calende.  The Tessino divides and forms the boundary between the Sardinian and Austrian territory, and Sesto Calende is the frontier of His Imperial, Royal and Apostolic Majesty.  After a rigorous search of my portmanteau at the Douane, and exhibiting my passport, I was allowed to proceed on my journey to Milan.