The next morning we drove to Moncallier, about six miles from Turin, to call upon Madame N----, (an old acquaintance of our friend Mr. T.'s,) for whom we had letters. The coachman was an insufferable gossip, and we dreaded to ask him a question, sure that it would bring down upon us at least a dozen long answers. We did not go to the English minister's; that gentleman (Mr. Hill) being then absent for a fortnight at Genoa. We therefore had not the pleasure of presenting him with those letters of introduction to himself and other families at Turin, with which we were furnished by the kindness of Mr. T. who was also formerly minister here, and of whom the people still speak in those terms of enthusiastic gratitude, which his benevolence richly deserves. It was highly pleasing to me to listen to these details, nor were they imparted to us by one person alone; his reputation appeared to be in the hearts and upon the lips of every one who remembered him at all! But to return to our visit to Madame N----: the vast expanse of fertile, fresh, and woody country seen from the heights of Moncallier, with the Po winding in graceful sweeps through the richest banks, is wonderfully like the prospect boasted by Richmond Hill. I was national enough to admire it the more upon this account, although I confess its superiority in the sublime back ground of the distant Alps and glaciers. When arrived at the termination of the carriage road here, we were informed of the necessity of alighting, and of walking a short distance to the garden gate that belonged to Madame N.'s _vigne_. This short distance proved to be upwards of half a league (a mile and half), leading through a stony lane of hot sand, (in which our weary feet sunk deep at every step), upon a very long and steep ascent. The hour of noon (which I have already mentioned to be intolerable in this country) rapidly approached, and the scorching influence of the sun caused the drops to start from our foreheads, and our hearts to sink within us, as we proceeded on our way; to make the matter worse, I had attired myself that morning (little dreaming of such a walk) in a smart Parisian costume, with a triple flounce at the bottom of the petticoat, which by the time I had reached the end of this lane, formed a very pretty receptacle of dust and sand, scattering its contents most liberally upon my already blistered feet and ancles; a pair of thin, small slippers, also, (which I unfortunately wore) cut my insteps with their tight binding, and admitted at each step the sharp points of flint with which our path abounded! The guide (a bareheaded Piedmontese boy) did not understand above one word in ten of what was said to him, either in French or Italian, speaking a wretched and indistinct _patois_ himself, which was equally unintelligible to us. He was a lively, arch little fellow, however, and made some amends for having seduced us into attempting the walk, by his encouraging signs that we should soon arrive at its termination. Indeed it would have been useless to have gone back, as we had already advanced so far upon our way; and there was no possibility of reaching the house but on foot. I reproached him several times for replying only "_No_, _Signora_," when I asked if such and such gates belonged to the _vigne_ we were seeking; and could not help smiling at his desiring me to take courage, for that in a few minutes he should leave off saying "_No_, _Signora_," and be able to please me better by "_Eccola_, _Signora_:" at length we reached the goal, and upon ringing, were ushered by two servant girls in their _paysanne_ costumes, amid the barking of wondering dogs, into a romantic garden, where flowers, fruit, vegetables, and grapes, all flourished together without any attempt at regularity, forming a singular and most agreeable melange. This _vigne_ commanded an exquisite and extensive prospect of the plains of Piedmont, and the distant mountains. A grave, respectable _femme de chambre_ now made her appearance, and speaking in English, conducted us into the house, where in a few minutes Madame N. herself received us with a degree of frank politeness, and a warm and unaffected hospitality of manner, which was extremely pleasant to meet with, and quite a novelty to those who like ourselves had been accustomed to the reserve (I may say ultra-reserve) of many Englishwomen. Both mistress and maid (the latter personage above-mentioned having lived with Madame N. ever since she was a girl) had a foreign accent and idiom, in speaking our language, although they were really of English birth, and had passed their youth in the county of Suffolk or Norfolk, I forget which.