DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62267#0129
Ch. V.
THROUGH ITALY.
119
We shortly after entered a plain called San
Nicolo. It is intersected by the Cenisolle, for
that is the name of the torrent that rolls down
the sides of Mount Cennis, or as the Italians
call it more classically, Monte Cinisio. At the
entrance of this plain the torrent tumbles from
the rocks in a lofty cascade, and on its banks
stands a stone pillar with an inscription, inform-
ino’ the traveller, who ascends, that he stands on
the verge of Piedmont and Italy, and is about to
enter Savoy! Though this pillar marks rather
the arbitrary than the natural boundaries of
Italy, yet it was impossible not to feel some
regret at the information; not to pause, look
back, and reflect on the matchless beauties of
the country we were about to leave for ever.
We continued our ascent, and very soon
reached the great plain, and as we stood on the
brow of the declivity we turned from the bleak
snowy pinnacles that rose before us, and endea-
vored to catch a parting glimpse of the sunny
scenery behind.
Here, amid the horrors of the Alps, and all
the rigors of eternal winter, Religion in her
humblest and most amiable form had, from time
immemorial, fixed her seat; to counteract the
genius of the place and the influence of the cli-
THROUGH ITALY.
119
We shortly after entered a plain called San
Nicolo. It is intersected by the Cenisolle, for
that is the name of the torrent that rolls down
the sides of Mount Cennis, or as the Italians
call it more classically, Monte Cinisio. At the
entrance of this plain the torrent tumbles from
the rocks in a lofty cascade, and on its banks
stands a stone pillar with an inscription, inform-
ino’ the traveller, who ascends, that he stands on
the verge of Piedmont and Italy, and is about to
enter Savoy! Though this pillar marks rather
the arbitrary than the natural boundaries of
Italy, yet it was impossible not to feel some
regret at the information; not to pause, look
back, and reflect on the matchless beauties of
the country we were about to leave for ever.
We continued our ascent, and very soon
reached the great plain, and as we stood on the
brow of the declivity we turned from the bleak
snowy pinnacles that rose before us, and endea-
vored to catch a parting glimpse of the sunny
scenery behind.
Here, amid the horrors of the Alps, and all
the rigors of eternal winter, Religion in her
humblest and most amiable form had, from time
immemorial, fixed her seat; to counteract the
genius of the place and the influence of the cli-