ROME, November 22nd, 1867.
—To prevent arrival at Rome being too intoxicating we came at a foot's pace from Leghorn, the incapable engine getting more incapable after we had passed the Papal frontier. We took 14 hours over what one does in 6 in England. Two young Italian men (not papal) expressed themselves hotly at the strict fumbling their bags were put through at Civita Vecchia (ours being quickly passed) ; they would not be allowed to stay in Rome without some tedious and elaborate passporting. How any nation can stand it I can't think. Several poor young Garibaldini prisoners were picked up at Civ. V., and sang patriotic songs. Our Italians indulged in much mocking of priests and papal dominion, but in a slip-sloppy dialect that I could hardly make anything of. The station arrangements forlorn and unkempt beyond anything ; we got away ourselves in a rickety little "trap," but the luggage, in spite of its "lascia passare," didn't turn up for an hour afterwards.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment