At Marseilles it was warm and sunny; and on Monday I embarked on board the Transatlantic steamer for Genoa. Knowing the little sympathy and friendly feeling there is on board French vessels for the English, I was glad to find two or three of my countrymen among the saloon passengers. The time of sailing arrived, but there was no sign of our leaving, and at last I found we were waiting for some three or four hundred Italian returning emigrants, whose vessel had come from the Brazils, and which was not yet released from quarantine. This prospect of waiting for some three or four hundred poor, dirty, sickly emigrants was not very lively, and this was rather disappointing, as it would probably interfere with my arrival at Leghorn at the time arranged. However, some four or five hours later their vessel came into the harbour, and they were brought alongside in several large barges--men, women, and children, with all their worldly goods, most of them returning poorer than when they had left their native land. They had a medley of souvenirs with them, parrots and other birds, and all kinds of gay garments--those land-sharks the Jews not even sparing these poor, pitiful emigrants, but doing their best to make them part with their little store of hard-earned savings, by offering them these gaudy articles of apparel, to cover or replace their own poor warm clothing. The long sea-voyage from the Brazils must have been very trying to these forlorn creatures, whose hopeless condition it was impossible to avoid sympathizing with and pitying. They appeared most eager to reach the shores of their own dear Italy once more--a fond hope and dream in foreign lands, now almost realized.
There was one poor old man, upwards of seventy years of age, who sat very still during all the exciting confusion of getting on board the steamer. He looked very ill, and I felt quite grateful to the fine, robust young man (whom I afterwards discovered was a perfect stranger to him) who most kindly took charge of him, and assisted him to climb the ship's ladder, which seemed to give him intense pain--indeed, he appeared scarcely able to move for agony. That night, while we were steaming away over the moonlit sea towards his native land, the poor old man entered on his long rest in a happier home above.