he sailors, on the deck of a Boston brig
anchored near us, would see my distant country. Leaving at four o'clock,
we dashed away, along the mountain coast of Carrara, at a rapid rate.
The wind was strong and cold, but I lay down behind the boiler, and
though the boards were as hard as ever, slept two or three hours. When I
awoke at half-past two in the morning, after a short rest, Genoa was
close at hand. We glided between the two revolving lights on the mole,
into the harbor, with the amphitheatre on which the superb city sits,
dark and silent around us. It began raining soon, the engine-fire sank
down, and as there was no place of shelter, we were shortly wet to the
skin.

How long those dreary hours seemed, till the dawn came! All was cold and
rainy and dark, and we waited in a kind of torpid misery for daylight.
The entire day, I passed sitting in a coil of rope under the stern of
the cabin, and even the beauties of the glorious city scarce affected
me. We lay opposite the Doria palace, and the constellation of villas
and towers still glittered along the hills; but who, with his teeth
chattering and limbs numb and damp, could feel pleasure in looking on
Elysium itself?

We got under way again at three o'clock. The rain very soon hid the
coast from view, and the waves pitched our boat about in a manner not at
all pleasant. I soon experienced sea-sickness in all its horrors. We had
accidentally made the acquaintance of one of the Neapolitan sailors, who
had been in America. He was one of those rough, honest natures I like to
meet with--their blunt kindness, is better than refined and oily-tongued
suavity. As we were standing by the chimney, reflecting dolefully how we
should pass the coming night, he came up and said; "I am in trouble
about you, poor fellows! I don't think I shall sleep three hours
to-night, to think of you. I shall tell all the cabin they shall give
you beds, because they shall see you are gentlemen!" Whether he did so
or the officers were moved by spontaneous commiseration, we knew not,
but in half an hour a servant beckoned us into the cabin, and berths
were given us.

I turned in with a feeling of relief not easily imagined, and forgave
the fleas willingly, in the comfort of a shelter from the storm. When I
awoke, it was broad day. A fresh breeze was drying the deck, and the sun
was half-visible among breaking clouds. We had just passed the Isle of
the Titan, one of the _Isles des Hyeres_, and