¶ 2 Leave a comment on paragraph 2 0 bags, apparently entirely empty, perhaps exchanging one or two passengers one of whom is always a priest. Until we reach Colico at the north east part of the head of the lake (two hours since leaving Bellaggio), where diligences connect for the St Gotthard highway across the alps northward and here our Boat stops an hour and half. Horid! [sic] what are we to do.
¶ 3 Leave a comment on paragraph 3 0 A scow is being loaded with bags of peat, some of it is being carried into this steamer for its boilers, a couple of wagons are being loaded with neatly sacked bales of refuse silkwarp from another scow, doubtless from the Lugano silk-mill destined over the St Gotthard to Zurich. This comprises the whole activity in sight, we walk through the town. The ladies holding their noses, squalor, filth, mud drunkenness, wretchedness. Two filthy taverns, in front of one, are several fine diligences, empty, without Horses- The guide-books gives the names of these “Hotels” and adds, “Kept in the Italian Style”.
¶ 4 Leave a comment on paragraph 4 0 The above insight into Italian life may be extended to all of the hundreds of villages that we have yet seen. As near alike as grazing goat flocks in the distant fields, varied only by the black ruins of ancient castles looming up from adjacent eminences.
¶ 7 Leave a comment on paragraph 7 0 From the landing, we ascend the steep narrow streets to the upper part of the town where we enter the gate to the Villa Serbelloni , the attendant however looking out for his admittance fees before unlocking the gate, thence upon a long series of winding terraces to the summit of the grounds which occupy the whole of the promentory [sic] at the point of the peninsula dividing the lakes Como and Lecco, and from where we get fine