We arrived at Turin about eight o’clock in the evening, and found quarters in the Ligurie, a large, new, first–class hotel, not far from the station. The double windows, thick shutters, and the cloth curtains outside the bedroom doors, were suggestive of what descent in temperature there may sometimes be in Turin; but except a little cold and damp in the evening, resulting from the rain which had fallen before our arrival, we had it warm and sunny during the three days we remained there. The following forenoon we devoted to a long drive in and about Turin. The streets are exceedingly regular and wide, and the houses being lofty and the town of considerable extent and full of handsome public buildings and monuments, Turin has all the appearance of a capital; but though a city upwards of 2000 years old, there is about it quite a modern air. The view along several of the streets is terminated by a grand vista of snowy mountains, and one of the sights of Turin—indeed, its great sight—is the view obtained from it of the Alps. To witness this in perfection, it should be seen from a commanding height early in the morning of a clear day. We accordingly, soon after breakfast, driving past the public park and gardens, and round an imposing quadrangular building called the Castel di Valentino, and crossing the river Po by a stone bridge of five arches, were deposited at the foot of the steep hill on which the Capuchin Monastery is built. Here, by a road winding round the hill, we walked to the top, and from the plateau beheld the most magnificent mountain prospect I had ever seen, or which I suppose is visible in Europe. Right in front of us, against a sky all but clear, rose the great range of the snowy Alps, stretching far as the eye could reach to right and left, the nearest being only about fifteen miles distant, but seeming much nearer as seen through a transparent atmosphere over a range of low hills lying in front of them. Monte Viso, conical in shape, about forty–five miles to the south–west, in which the river Po finds its source, rises prominently like a huge tusk, the rest like an enormous jaw, in wavy line of peaks or serrated folds. Between the river Po, flowing below, and the mountains, the ground appears one vast level plain, on which the city rests in regular lines of lofty houses, the monotony being broken by the numerous towers and domes of the public buildings; and conspicuous among them is the great ugly peculiar square dome of the Jewish Synagogue, a far from pleasing object. In a different direction, away to the north–east, we saw the Superga or Royal Mausoleum, built on the crest of a hill much higher than the monastery, and commanding a fully better view. To visit it and the royal tombs is a day’s excursion, and we gave it up. The royal palace was among the places in town which we visited. Its magnificent rooms are reached by a truly regal staircase of marble adorned by sculpture. The armoury, an