The next day, our road, an even, good carriageway, led up the valley of the Adige, along a valley that might have passed for one of Switzerland, a little softened in features. There were ruined towers on the spurs of the mountains, and here and there was a hold that was still kept up. One in particular, near Botzen, struck us as singularly picturesque, for it was not easy to see how its inhabitants reached it. The costumes, too, were singular; prettier, I thought, than any of Switzerland. The men wore cock’s feathers, stuck obliquely with a smart air in their high conical hats: some carried guns, and all had a freedom of manner about them that denoted the habits of mountaineers. At Botzen we left the Adige, following a branch, however, that was not smaller than the stream which retains the name. The country now became more romantic and more wild. The châteaux were of a simpler kind, though always picturesque. The road continued good, and the horses were excellent: they reminded us strongly of American horses. We did not arrive at Brixen until after dark; but we found German neatness, German civility, German honesty, and German family portraits. Every man has ancestors of some sort or other, but one sees no necessity for lampooning them with a pencil after they are dead. Brixen stands in a mountain-basin, a town of a German-Swiss character. Soon after quitting it, next morning, we began to ascend the celebrated Pass of the Brenner, which offered nothing more than a long and winding road among forests and common mountain scenery. We had been too recently in Switzerland to be in ecstasies, and yet we were pleased. It began to be stormy; and by the time we reached the post-house, the road had several inches of snow in it. Two days before, we had been eating cherries and strawberries at Verona! One gets to be sophisticated in time. On landing in England, I refused a beggar a sixpence, _because he asked for it_, my American habits revolting at the meanness of begging. To-day A—— had a good laugh at me for a change of character. By the arrangement at Venice, I was not obliged to give any thing to the postillions; but I usually added a franc to their regular receipts from the government. On this occasion the postillion very properly abstained from asking for that which he knew he could not properly claim. The money, however, was in my hand; but seeing that he kept aloof, I put it up, unconsciously saying, “Hang the fellow! if he will not ask for it, let him go without it.” This is the way we get to be the creatures of habit, judging of nations and men by standards that depend on accidents. Four years earlier, I should certainly have refused the postillion, _had_ he asked for the money; and now I denied him because he did _not_! I hope to reach the philosophical and just medium in due time, in this as well as in some other matters.