was less spoiled by popularity than he.  I have no other reason for mentioning these particulars than to put in relief the strength of will and the perseverance which one so situated must have brought to bear, in order to conquer his own deficiencies and the popular prejudice, and attain, against wind and tide, the high place he holds in the estimation of Parliament and of the country.  That Count Cavour has made himself, if not properly an orator, in the high sense of the word, a nervous, fluent, and most agreeable speaker, is sufficiently attested by the untiring attention with which his speeches, occupying sometimes two whole sittings, are listened to in both Houses.  He never puts them in writing, and seldom, if ever, makes use of notes.

Life is substantial in Turin, and on a broad, homely scale.  By which you are not to understand, either that the male portion of the inhabitants feast on whole oxen, like Homer’s heroes, or that, the fair sex are draped in tunics of homespun wool, like the Roman matrons of old.  They are not so primitive as that.  You may have at any restaurant a smaller morsel than an ox or even an ox’s shoulder; and as to ladies’ finery, there is no article de Paris, no indispensable inutility, no crinoline, hoop, or cage, of impossible materials, shape, and dimensions, which you may not find under the Portici, or in Vianuova, a facility of which the Turinese beauties give themselves the benefit rather freely.  What I meant to say, when I spoke of life on a broad, homely scale, was simply this:—­that in Turin, generally speaking, the great art of putting the appearance in the place of the substance, and juggling the principal under the accessories, has yet to be learned.  If you ask for a room, a dinner, a bath, they take you in good earnest, and supply you with the genuine article.  When I put up at the Hotel de Londres, from which I am writing, I had to run no gantlet between a double line of solemn-looking, white-cravated waiters; yet I have only to ring my bell, to be attended to with promptitude, with zeal, nay, con amore.  My kind hostess, Signora Viarengo, does not wear a triple or quadruple row of flounces, but looks after my wardrobe when I am out, and, if anything wants mending, has it mended.  The room which I occupy is not furnished in a dashing style, nor has it a parquet cire, but it is on the first floor, and thrice as large and lofty and half as dear as that I had at Meurice’s on the quatrieme; and a Titan might stretch himself down at ease on the bed in which I sleep.  The dining-room of the hotel is not glittering with gilt stucco and chandeliers; but the dinner served to me there (and served at any hour) is copious and first-rate,—­ four dishes of entremets, butter, salame, celery, radishes, to whet the appetite,—­a soup,—­a first course of three dishes, two of meat, one of vegetables,—­a second of three dishes, one of them a roasted fowl, —­salad, a sweet