stone formation. In a couple of hundred paces or so the
vegetation changes its character from that of upper Italy to the
softness of the southern islands, the sheltered slope to the sea being
like an evergreen garden. Aloes root in the rocks as at Sorrento, and
even in winter the purple cyclamen may be found in flower. Its name in
antiquity was Castrum Pucinum. Here Augustus had a villa, whence the
best wine for his table was brought. From the line, too, the campanili
of Grado and Aquileia are visible, far away over the plain, dark against
lagoon or sky in the evening, or flashing white in the morning sun.

At Monfalcone we took corner seats in an unoccupied carriage, but while
we were arranging our things an old man, rather infirm, got in and made
me to understand that he wanted mine. German was the language which he
spoke. I thought perhaps I was intruding, though there was nothing on
the seat to show that it was taken, so gave it up. We had two nice
youths, who were talking Italian, at the other end of the compartment,
cadets of some kind in uniform, going home for the Easter holidays. The
old man was very short-sighted and gazed at the landscape through a
little telescope. When we left Nabresina and went the other way to run
down to Trieste, the views changed to the other side of the carriage,
and to my astonishment the selfish old fellow moved across and turned
one of the youths out of his place! to which he submitted quite meekly.

The descent from the high land to the coast level is very fine, the eye
ranging far over the blue water, headland projecting beyond headland,
paler and more diaphanous, till the historic point of Salvore fades into
the distance scarcely distinguishable. Below the blue is stained by the
smoke of steamers and flecked with the many-coloured sails of other
craft, while in the middle-distance populous Trieste stretches round the
curve of the bay, with many vessels at its wharves, and the smoke from
the Lloyd-Arsenal mingling with that from the iron-works at Muggia
beyond S. Servolo across the bay; or, if it should be night, lines of
lights define the long stretch of quays and streets like strings of
pearls, and sparkle up the heights which the houses climb in several
directions. Prosecco is passed, which gives its name to a celebrated
wine much esteemed in Trieste; Miramar, with its memories of the
ill-fated Maximilian of Mexico, who delighted in its beautiful situation
and splendour of appo