e some hot coffee. There would not be
time for any thing else.

"Let us have some hot coffee, uncle George," said Rollo, eagerly.

"Very well," said Mr. George.

So Rollo gave the order, and the waiter went into the house. In a moment
he returned with two cups of very nice coffee, which he brought on a
tray. By this time, however, the fresh horses were almost harnessed, so
that it was necessary to drink the coffee quick. But there was no
difficulty in doing this, for it was very nice, and not too hot. Rollo
had barely time to give back the cups and pay for the coffee before the
diligence began to move. The postilions started the horses with a
strange sort of a cry, that they uttered while standing beside them, and
then leaped into the saddles just as they were beginning to run.

The journey was continued much in this way during the whole day. The
country was delightful; the road was hard and smooth as a floor, and the
horses went very fast. In a word, Rollo had a capital ride.

After traversing a comparatively level country for some miles, the road
entered a mountainous region, where there was a long ascent. At the foot
of this ascent was a post house, and here they put on six horses instead
of four. Of course there were now three postilions. But although the
country was mountainous, the ascent was not steep, for the road was
carried up by means of long windings and zigzags, in such a manner that
the rise was very regular and gradual all the way. The consequence was,
that the six horses took the diligence on almost as fast up the
mountains as the four had done on the level ground.

About five o'clock in the afternoon the diligence made a good stop, in
order to allow the passengers to dine.

"We will go in and take dinner with the rest," said Mr. George, "and so
save the things that we have put up for a moonlight supper on the
Pontine Marshes."

"Yes," said Rollo, "I shall like that very much. Besides, I want to go
and take dinner with them here, for I want to see how they do it."

The place where the diligence stopped was a town called Mola di Gaeta.
It stood in a very picturesque situation, near the sea. For though the
road, in leaving Naples, had led at first into the interior of the
country, and had since been winding about among the mountains, it had
now come down again to the margin of the sea.

The entrance to the hotel was under a great archway. There were doors to
the right and left from this archway,