The Castle of Duino has been called "The pearl of the Coastlands." It stands finely upon its rock, just where the diluvial plain meets the lime or sandstone formation. In a couple of hundred paces or so the vegetation changes its character from that of upper Italy to the softness of the southern islands, the sheltered slope to the sea being like an evergreen garden. Aloes root in the rocks as at Sorrento, and even in winter the purple cyclamen may be found in flower. Its name in antiquity was Castrum Pucinum. Here Augustus had a villa, whence the best wine for his table was brought. From the line, too, the campanili of Grado and Aquileia are visible, far away over the plain, dark against lagoon or sky in the evening, or flashing white in the morning sun.
At Monfalcone we took corner seats in an unoccupied carriage, but while we were arranging our things an old man, rather infirm, got in and made me to understand that he wanted mine. German was the language which he spoke. I thought perhaps I was intruding, though there was nothing on the seat to show that it was taken, so gave it up. We had two nice youths, who were talking Italian, at the other end of the compartment, cadets of some kind in uniform, going home for the Easter holidays. The old man was very short-sighted and gazed at the landscape through a little telescope. When we left Nabresina and went the other way to run down to Trieste, the views changed to the other side of the carriage, and to my astonishment the selfish old fellow moved across and turned one of the youths out of his place! to which he submitted quite meekly.
The descent from the high land to the coast level is very fine, the eye ranging far over the blue water, headland projecting beyond headland, paler and more diaphanous, till the historic point of Salvore fades into the distance scarcely distinguishable. Below the blue is stained by the smoke of steamers and flecked with the many-coloured sails of other craft, while in the middle-distance populous Trieste stretches round the curve of the bay, with many vessels at its wharves, and the smoke from the Lloyd-Arsenal mingling with that from the iron-works at Muggia beyond S. Servolo across the bay; or, if it should be night, lines of lights define the long stretch of quays and streets like strings of pearls, and sparkle up the heights which the houses climb in several directions. Prosecco is passed, which gives its name to a celebrated wine much esteemed in Trieste; Miramar, with its memories of the ill-fated Maximilian of Mexico, who delighted in its beautiful situation and splendour of appointment; then comes Barcola, where excavations have proved the existence of Roman villas, which have enriched the museum of Trieste with many interesting objects; and at last the train slackens and stops at the west end of the town, in the fine station built with that disregard for economy of space and lavish expenditure of material which the Englishman finds remarkable in Continental railway management.