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1 Leave a comment on paragraph 1 0 515 Nice to Genoa

2 Leave a comment on paragraph 2 0 biscuits, several deckhands pitch into the chips and saunter around us with part of them under their arms, but each one is holding an iron fork and wooden spoon so we know something else to eat is expected.

3 Leave a comment on paragraph 3 0 Soon the Boatswain squats before us with a pan half full of smoking soup thick with noodles and vegetables, three quarts or more, and goes at it lively, while we are expecting to see the men go in for their share of the pan (a little scant perhaps, for a dozen men) they begin to arrive and squat all around us, each one with a pan as full as the first. Anna envies them, the mixture looks so good, and withdraw to give them our places-

4 Leave a comment on paragraph 4 0 Rocks, towns, crags, towns, cliffs, villages, ragged crooked shore, rockbound coast is Cornice road, up, down, around, masonry, masonry, more villages, more rocks, until dark, and at 6 P.M. Anna and the seasick Cs are routed out to see the glistening lights all around us as we enter the circling harbor of Genoa- more trouble- we must pile into a small boat, down a narrow ladder in the dark pushed by a bustling jostling crowd of anxious passengers mostly 2nd class- into the boat which has come for us from the Hotel National in response to our telegram, a long row, through a narrow channel between two long lines of anchored ships whos forests of masts each side of us tower up amidst a cloud of rigging- until our yawl shoves into a crowd of small boats all in the same clumsy style of our own covering an acre or two in front of the custom-house, up the steps through a crowd of boatmen, into the Custom House where our satchels are spread along the counter in a long string with their mouths all agap. The official passes along with a hasty peep into a few, asks for cigars and

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