The feelings with which I look on this lovely land, are fast changing.  What with the dust and heat, and cheating landlords, and the dull plains of Lombardy, my first experience was not very prepossessing.  But the joyous and romantic anticipation with which I looked forward to realizing the dream of my earliest boyhood, is now beginning to be surpassed by the exciting reality.  Every breath I drew in the city of Columbus and Doria, was deeply tinctured with the magic of history and romance.  It was like entering on a new existence, to look on scenes so lovely by nature and so filled with the inspiring memories of old.

    “Italia too, Italia! looking on thee,
    Full flashes on the soul the light of ages,
    Since the fierce Carthagenian almost won thee,
    To the last halo of the chiefs and sages
    Who glorify thy consecrated pages! 
    Thou wert the throne and grave of empires.”

The Virgilio was advertised to leave at six o’clock, and I accordingly went out to her in a little boat half an hour beforehand; but we were delayed much longer, and I saw sunset again fade over the glorious amphitheatre of palaces and mountains, with the same orange glow—­the same purple and crimson flush, deepening into twilight—­as before.  An old blind man in a skiff, floated around under the bows of the boat on the glassy water, singing to the violin a plaintive air that appeared to be an evening hymn to the virgin.  There was something very touching in his venerable countenance, with the sightless eyes turned upward to the sunset heaven whose glory he could never more behold.

The lamps were lit on the tower at the end of the mole as we glided out on the open sea; I stood on deck and watched the receding lights of the city, till they and the mountains above them, were blended with the darkened sky.  The sea-breeze was fresh and cool, and the stars glittered with a frosty clearness, which would have made the night delicious had not a slight rolling of the waves obliged me to go below.  Here, besides being half seasick, I was placed at the mercy of many voracious fleas, who obstinately stayed, persisting in keeping me company.  This was the first time I had suffered from these cannibals, and such were my torments, I almost wished some blood-thirsty Italian would come and put an end to them with his stiletto.

The first ray of dawn that stole into the cabin sent me on deck.  The hills of Tuscany lay in front, sharply outlined on the reddening sky; near us was the steep and rocky isle of Gorgona; and far to the south-west, like a low mist along the water, ran the shores of Corsica—­the birth place of Columbus and Napoleon![***] As the dawn brightened we saw on the southern horizon a cloud-like island, also imperishably connected with the name of the latter—­the prison-kingdom of Elba!  North of us extended the rugged mountains of Carrarra—­that renowned range whence has sprung many a form of almost breathing beauty, and where yet slumber, perhaps, in the unhewn marble, the god-like shapes of an age of art, more glorious than any the world has ever yet beheld!