placed them back again, to prevent his springing up in his convulsive throes. The song ended, and the gens d'armes entered, and carried him speechless and lifeless out of the theatre.” I slept one or two nights in Genoa, or tried to sleep. The hotel was a perfect bedlam; the streets were full of all sorts of noises; and in the house opposite the narrow passage was kept up a constant jabbering, which reminded me of the hideous jargon of the North American Indians, and more than once did I dream of the scalping-knife and the tomahawk, and start up to hear the merry laugh of a dozen young creatures, who, a few feet from my window, in the next hotel, were shouting, screaming, yelling, and dancing with all their might. When the people of Genoa sleep I do not know, but presume, from what I saw, that they are quite successful in turning night into day. XXII. LEGHORN - PISA — CIVITA VECCHIA - BAY OF NAPLES. WE took the steamer from Genoa one evening, at six o'clock, with the fair prospect of a dreadfully unfair night. The winds howled; the sky was dark and overcast; and the waves rolled and tumbled, dashed forward and backward, rose and fell, as if angry with themselves and the little puffing steamer which was endeavoring to struggle through them. Directly over the cabin, in which about thirty of us were pent up, were six horses, which kept up a continual kicking within a few inches of our aching heads. Once, during the night, the stalls in which they were confined gave way, and the affrighted animals went capering about the deck, to the consternation of the passengers below, who knew not the cause of the commotion above. The whole company, with a few exceptions, sprang up, supposing we were going to the bottom; and as they huddled together near the door, jabbering in five or six different languages, the scene was indescribably ludicrous. Order was at length restored, the horses were captured, and the steamer, in due form, went bustling into Leghorn about sunrise. At the Hotel San Marco, we found one John Smith, who served us with a decent breakfast, after which we walked about the town. Leghorn is a dull place, the stores and houses all bearing marks of decay. Business seems to be stagnant and dead, and we moved about amid deserted habitations and silent streets. About twelve miles from Leghorn is Pisa, a town of much interest, containing about twenty-nine thousand inhabitants, out to which we went in the cars. The town was preparing to celebrate the day of its patron saint, which is the 16th of June. A grand illumination was to take place, and such preparations, on a scale so grand, I never saw before. The saint to be celebrated is San Ranieri, who died 1356. He lived a vile and wicked life, abandoned by God and all things good. Before his death, however, he became an example of piety. We wish we could say as much for all the canonized saints. He was indefatigable in his labors for the poor, and died respected and beloved by all. The preparations made to celebrate this day were fine. Every house seemed to be covered with framework from which floods of light were to blaze out. The great objects of interest are the cathedral, baptistry, leaning tower, and Campo Santo. The cathedral is one of the most elegant in Italy. The doors are of massive bronze work. The interior is of alternate layers of black and white marble, giving it a unique appearance. The dome is finely frescoed, and fine paintings adorn the walls. In the nave hangs suspended a chandelier, once beautiful, but now black and time-worn, and suspended from the center of the dome above by a black, dirty rope. This chandelier suggested to Galileo the idea of the pendulum, which has since been applied to so much advantage to the world. The pulpit is of ancient order, and is a superb structure of richly-carved marble; and the whole church is wealthy with paintings, mosaics, and sculpture. It is in the form of a Latin cross, and is bedecked with ornaments magnificent and costly. Candles burn on the altars, and music echoes along the deserted aisles. As we entered, a monk, with his face covered with a black nightcap, with holes for his hateful eyes to glare out, came to beg, and, in a piteous, whining tone, entreated us to give something to the church. Near the duomo is the baptistry, which was built in the eleventh century. It is a large building, in the form of an immense dome, which rises to a hight of one hundred and seventy-nine feet. The external and internal appearance of the structure has great effect. The pulpit is a hexagon, and rests upon nine pillars, and is covered with basso-rilievo work. The basin is in the middle, and is large enough for ten or fifteen persons to occupy at one time. The whole appearance of the basin and the building gives unequivocal evidence that immersion was here performed. The same remark may be made of the baptistry at Florence, which is constructed on a similar plan. Close at hand is the wonderful leaning tower, which has seven bells, and is two hundred and seventy-eight feet high. We ascend by a winding staircase, and from the top enjoy a fine prospect of the surrounding country. The deviation is from fifteen to eighteen feet; and as I stood looking down, the danger of falling appeared so great, that I was glad to descend as soon as possible. One naturally clings to the rail of the gallery as he looks down from the dizzy elevation upon the earth beneath, which seems to be passing from under him. Whether the tower was built as it is, in a leaning position, or whether the foundations have settled, is a matter of question, nor can an examination settle the point. I incline to the latter opinion, which accords with the view taken by most travelers. This group of buildings, with the Campo Santo, forms one of the most interesting objects of study and interest that can be found in Italy. The leaning tower is in itself a wonder, and the whole group, where millions of dollars have been expended, deserves a visit from every person who goes within a hundred miles of the spot. Returning to Leghorn a while, we wandered about, and at length went down to the steamer, determined never to set foot on the soil of that place again. The ways in which the people contrive to get at the pockets of the traveler are legion. You are compelled to pay as you enter the port, and as you leave it; as you go to a hotel, and when you come away, shaking off the dust of your feet. You can neither eat, drink, or sleep, walk, or play, without being charged for it. Contrary to our expectations, we were thrown into this place again, a while after, and took breakfast at Hotel du Nord, where we were detained, abused, fleeced, and, at length, fed. Before we went away, the keeper of the hotel, or rather a servant, for the keeper was a woman, requested us to write some recommendation in his commonplace book, that he might show it to other American travelers who should happen to fall into the hands of the official and unofficial plunderers of Leghorn. This was too much; and one of our company sat down and wrote the following lines, to which we all appended our names: Five strangers, from a foreign shore, |