I was travelling from Turin to Paris. The journey over Mont Cenis was then only to be performed by Fell's railway, or by the road, by diligence or private carriage. I took the latter, making a contract for the posting, and not binding the _maître de poste_ to any limited number of mules for the ascent. It was in the month of December, and at the time I left Susa, at five P.M., the snow was falling so thickly that by the time I had completed half the ascent, the road or track was completely obliterated. It was a beautiful moonlight night. I was lost in admiration of the manner in which the nine mules, attached to a light travelling carriage, wended their way over the trackless snow. The stupendous mountains, clothed in all the sombre grandeur of their winter attire, surged up before me, peeping, as it were, into the deep chasms beneath, on the very verge of which the mules moved cautiously along. It was wonderful to watch, where the road twisted and turned almost at right angles, the careful manner in which each animal in turn dropped out of his work till they were again in the straight running. Notwithstanding the beauty of the scenery and the interest with which I watched the long string of mules, which appeared at times to be actually balancing themselves upon the narrow ledges, I was not without anxiety, partly, perhaps, on account of a friend to whom I had given a seat in my carriage. He had recently broken his leg at Turin, and was taking the earliest opportunity of a safe escort to London. The driver had no more direct control over the mules than could be conveyed by his voice, though I must do him the justice to say that when he did open his mouth he did so to some purpose. His mules, however, did not often require reproof, and a short grunt, with the name Garibaldi or Emanuel, sufficed to make them spring forward as if they were ashamed of being named before strangers. The driver himself frequently makes short cuts across the angles of the road as he plods through the snow, leaving the mules to thread their way entirely according to their own judgment. It was on one of these occasions, when the driver loitering out of sight, perhaps to cut his tobacco, was absent somewhat longer than usual, that the mules appeared to be feeling their way with more than ordinary caution, while the uneasy motion of the carriage indicated that we were not travelling upon a plain surface. Almost instinctively, I ejaculated at the top of my voice, imitating as near as I could the driver's intonation: "Wo-a-a-h!" Every mule stopped dead short. If they had not done so, or moved on one single inch, this incident would never have been recorded by me!