Breuil. Sunday. Dearest Father. I have had such a delicious 2 days. I started at 7 yesterday and walked all down the Val Tournanche to Châtillon - 17½ miles which I did in 4½ hours. It is the loveliest valley I have seen in all the Alps. The upper part is open meadows lying under Matterhorn with a lovely stream and meagre companies of pines most exquisitely planted. Then the valley narrows into a splendid gorge down which you step onto the high meadows of Val Tournanche, and so downwards into chestnut woods, the road turning and winding between the rocky hills which form an ever varying frame to the great rocky head of the Matterhorn nodding over all. At Châtillon I hoped to lunch, but finding I could just catch a train, I ran down to the station and went on hungrily to Aosta which I reached at 12.30. Do you know it? It is a charming alpine town, the great glaciers of the Combin and the Rintor shining along its narrow streets. I spent all the afternoon looking at Roman gates and arches and Lombard towers, sustained the while by most excellent black figs of which I bought handfuls for a halfpenny. All the pergolas were hung with grapes almost ripe - oh it was Italian and delicious beyond words. I left by a 5 o'clock train this morning, reached Châtillon at 6, when I breakfasted and walked about and eat grapes and looked at the lovely Roman bridge. At 9 I drove up in the diligence to Val Tournanche. I had a companion with whom I presently began to talk, a tall fair Piedmontese, whom I presently dicovered to be one of the lights of the Italian Alpine Club. His name is Bobba - yes, it is really. He and his family were staying en villeggiatura at Val Tournanche and after lunching at the hotel, mostly on sparghetti [sic] and cheese, I went up to their chalet and had coffee with them. The old papa is a professor at Turin [Torino] - they talked very loud and all together and I laughed a good deal to think I was having coffee with them. Then I had the most heavenly walk up here, a golden wonderful afternoon, and I crossed over some meadows to see the beautiful little lake in the woods and without doubt it is the most beautiful lake in the world. It runs over some rocks into another blue pool lower down, with pine trees growing round, and the upper lake is a perfect mirror for the Matterhorn. The weather is gorgeous and we start for the hut tomorrow, traversing to Zermatt.
Amicis is staying at this hotel - I haven't made his acquaintance. His son is climbing with a very celebrated Italian Alpinist, Guido Rey. I introduced myself to him the other night when I dined here, for he is a cousin of M. de Filippi, and we had a long and interesting mountain talk. He has gone off on an expedition today so I shall not see him again.

This is a nice place. I'm so glad I came. I think next year I shall explore the Grivola district. I want to see much more of Italian alps. Ever your affectionate daughter Gertrude

I shall be rather glad to find letters at Zermatt.