The principal object of our journey to the “Sunny South” was health, to be best acquired by rest and sea breezes. It was now time to take ship.
I had not an opportunity of shooting any brigands while in Italy, because at Vintemille, they took charge of a very nice six-shooter lent me by my friend, Jupiter. It happened just on the Italian frontier. If you wish to carry a pistol it must be a foot long, and you must carry it in a _belt around the waist_. My companion was wrath to see these friendly Italians rudely destroying some choice plants and roots he had so carefully collected at Mentone, saying, “not possibul, coller ha,” being afraid of having cholera thus imported into Italy.
From Genoa we took berths by the Florio Rubittino steamer “Asia.” Having twelve hours to wait at Leghorn we landed and went to Pisa to see the leaning tower, the cathedral, and baptistry–a quiet, clean old town, its greatness is recorded in ancient history. The only noticeable feature about Leghorn is its fine harbour.
Two more days’ delightful sailing along the coast, passing the small barren island of Elba, where the first Napoleon was banished to for a time. Nearing the bay of Naples, the first land sighted is the island of Ischia, where 2000 people lost their lives in 1883 by an earthquake. It was evening when we sighted Vesuvius, about twenty-five miles away, a red glare of fire issuing from its summit. As we entered the bay, Naples looked as if it was illuminated, the rows of gas lights so regular in line above each other; the night was fine and clear, and the scene enchanting. We were too late that night to be cleared by the Customs, so slept on board. Early in the morning we were awakened by the cries of human voices belonging to the Neapolitan boatmen waiting for their prey. Before breakfast we went on deck to have a morning view of the bay of Naples. It was fine, the sun was up. The bay looks like an inland sea of twenty miles in width. The islands of Capri and Ischia stand at the opening of the bay, and so close up the view to the open sea. The bold outline of the mountains, the towns and villages can be seen here and there on some elevated spot, the atmosphere being so fine, and the sea glistening placid and clear. To the south of the bay stands Vesuvius, steaming and smoking, throwing up its vapours to the sky, by night a bright red glare; at the crown of the bay stands the far-famed Naples, with its many-tinted houses piled one above another up the hill that skirts the bay, crowned by the colossal castle of Elmo. The curve of the bay is broken in the centre by a small mole, on which stands the ruined-looking castle Dell Ova and the Palace Royal, and further north, on the rising ground stands modern Naples, laid out with fine hotels, villas, and gardens.
