Even the most degraded woman can walk our streets unmolested, her sex and her weakness being her sufficient protection.  She will encounter less polish than she would in the old world, but she will run across enough humanity to make up for it.

The music of a donkey awoke us early in the morning, and we rose up and made ready for a pretty formidable walk—­to Italy; but the road was so level that we took the train..  We lost a good deal of time by this, but it was no matter, we were not in a hurry.  We were four hours going to Chamb`ery.  The Swiss trains go upward of three miles an hour, in places, but they are quite safe.

That aged French town of Chamb`ery was as quaint and crooked as Heilbronn.  A drowsy reposeful quiet reigned in the back streets which made strolling through them very pleasant, barring the almost unbearable heat of the sun.  In one of these streets, which was eight feet wide, gracefully curved, and built up with small antiquated houses, I saw three fat hogs lying asleep, and a boy (also asleep) taking care of them.  From queer old-fashioned windows along the curve projected boxes of bright flowers, and over the edge of one of these boxes hung the head and shoulders of a cat—­asleep.  The five sleeping creatures were the only living things visible in that street.  There was not a sound; absolute stillness prevailed.  It was Sunday; one is not used to such dreamy Sundays on the continent.  In our part of the town it was different that night.  A regiment of brown and battered soldiers had arrived home from Algiers, and I judged they got thirsty on the way.  They sang and drank till dawn, in the pleasant open air.

We left for Turin at ten the next morning by a railway which was profusely decorated with tunnels.  We forgot to take a lantern along, consequently we missed all the scenery.  Our compartment was full.  A ponderous tow-headed Swiss woman, who put on many fine-lady airs, but was evidently more used to washing linen than wearing it, sat in a corner seat and put her legs across into the opposite one, propping them intermediately with her up-ended valise.  In the seat thus pirated, sat two Americans, greatly incommoded by that woman’s majestic coffin-clad feet.  One of them begged, politely, to remove them.  She opened her wide eyes and gave him a stare, but answered nothing.  By and by he proferred his request again, with great respectfulness.  She said, in good English, and in a deeply offended tone, that she had paid her passage and was not going to be bullied out of her “rights” by ill-bred foreigners, even if she was alone and unprotected.

“But I have rights, also, madam.  My ticket entitles me to a seat, but you are occupying half of it.”

“I will not talk with you, sir.  What right have you to speak to me?  I do not know you.  One would know you came from a land where there are no gentlemen.  No gentleman would treat a lady as you have treated me.”