¶ 2 Leave a comment on paragraph 2 0 shells, poor picking- Then we all jump into a boat with two rowers and glide down the bay to the right of the town, a couple of miles away, where a few rods from shore, is an immense freshwater spring which boils up through 30 or 40 ft of salt water so that our boat is not allowed to pass over it. And when the sea is high, this spring beats back the waves like a rock. Beyond us, in a grove, a brass band is rendering its assistance to the Sunday fandango of the sailors.
¶ 3 Leave a comment on paragraph 3 0 Back again we row, through the crowd of vessels at anchor out in the bay. In every direction small boats are coming and going, filled with marines from the war ships.
¶ 4 Leave a comment on paragraph 4 0 One of our rowers is a knowlege’y cuss’, but I am not sure of his reliability. “This small ship here, is the first vessel that went through the suez canal. That fort on the point to the right is where Garibaldi was imprisoned. That war-steamer yonder is awaiting to accompany the young King to Spain tomorrow”…+c
¶ 6 Leave a comment on paragraph 6 0 Spezzia has about 10.000. Citizens, and perhaps a little cleaner than some Italian towns, still its bad enough. Lies along the shore backed up by mountains crowned by old, weak forts-
¶ 7 Leave a comment on paragraph 7 0 Towards night fall I walked through the principal street nearly half a mile. All the way so crowded with sailors, marines, and loafers that I could scarcely get through the middle of the street. Ladies and women promenaded among them alone without any insult being offered, as I could perceive. Ladies are seldom insulted in the streets.