It were worth the journey we have taken, if only to behold the
curious maritime scene before us now-made up of the felucca, the
polacre, and the bombard, or ketch all equally unknown in our own
waters.

Well, on with us still; let us up again and new through the canal of
Piombino, touching at the isle of Elba, the "Great Emperor's" mimic
domain; step into the town lying beneath this rocky bluff; which is
crowned by a fort-it is Porto Ferrajo. Look off for a moment from
this rocky eminence, back of the town, and see the wild beauty of
these Tuscan mountains on the main land. Now, we will over to the
Italian coast, and cross, if you will, from Leghorn to Florence.
There, we are now in the very lap of genius and of poetry; let us
pause here and breathe the dreamy, soothing, balmy air of Italy.

Florence, most favored daughter of Italy, sweet, sunny Florence,
where dwelleth the gallantry and beauty of Tuscany, with thy wealth
of architectural beauty, thy magnificent churches and palaces, thy
princely court and hoarded beauties-favorite of that genial land, we
greet thee! How peacefully dost thou lay at the very foot of the
cloud-topped Apennines, divided by the mountain-born Arno in its
course to the sea, and over whose bosom the architectural genius of
the land is displayed in arched bridges; loveliest and best beloved
art thou of sunny, vine-clad Italy.

The poetical luxury of Italian genius is nowhere more plainly
manifested than in Florence. 'Tis the artist's favorite resort and
best school; 'tis the city the traveller likes least to turn his
back upon; and the spot being consecrated by poetry and art, where
the blood flows quickest through the veins, warmed by a fervid and