They say that Italian husbands and wives do not long remain fond
of each other, but it was impossible in the presence of these happy
people not to believe in the eternity of their love, and it was hard
to keep from "dropping into poetry" on account of them. Their bliss
infected every body in the car, and in spite of the weariness of our
journey, and the vexation of the misadventures which had succeeded one
another unsparingly ever since we left home, we found ourselves far on
the way to Genoa before we thought to grumble at the distance. There
was with us, besides the bridal party, a lady travelling from Bologna
to Turin, who had learned English in London, and spoke it much better
than most Londoners. It is surprising how thoroughly Italians master
a language so alien to their own as ours, and how frequently you find
them acquainted with English. From Russia the mania for this tongue
has spread all over the Continent, and in Italy English seems to be
prized first among the virtues.

As we drew near Genoa, the moon came out on purpose to show us the
superb city, and we strove eagerly for a first glimpse of the proud
capital where Columbus was born. To tell the truth, the glimpse was
but slight and false, for railways always enter cities by some mean
level, from which any picturesque view is impossible.

Near the station in Genoa, however, is the weak and ugly monument
which the municipality has lately raised to Columbus. The moon made
the best of this, which stands in a wide open space, and contrived,
with an Italian skill in the arrangement of light, to produce an
effect of undeniable splendor. On the morrow, we found out by the
careless candor of the daylight what a uselessly big head Columbus
had, and how the sculptor had not very happily thought proper to
represent him with his sea-legs on.