Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo

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Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo

Produced by Julia Miller, Barbara Kosker, Jeannie Howse and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr)


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Fair Italy, the land of song and cradle of the Arts, has been so often written about, and so well described both in prose and in verse, that I feel there is a presumption in my attempting to say anything fresh of that classic land, its art treasures, and its glorious past. But within the last few years a new Italy has sprung into existence--the dream of Cavour has been realized; and, contrary to all predictions, she has evinced a union and cohesiveness so complete as to surprise all, and possibly disappoint some who were jealous of her.

What was once a conglomeration of petty rival states is now one constitutionally governed kingdom. Italy has ceased to be only a geographical name; she is now a nation whose voice is listened to at the council tables of the Great Powers.

The old terms of Piedmontese, Tuscan, Lombard, and Neapolitan, have no longer aught but a local significance; from the Alps to Tarentum every one glories in the name of free united Italy, and feels proud of being an Italian.

Young Italy is so rapidly developing the resources of her gifted people and of her fruitful lands, that she daily becomes more interesting to all who sympathize with a free and vigorous country; more especially to the English, who have many interests in common with her, and few, if any, reasons to fear either antagonism or competition.

And the beautiful Riviera--

Where God's pure air, sweet flowers, blue sea and skies, Combine to make an earthly Paradise.

Yes! the Riviera is certainly one of the loveliest spots on this fair earth, and is visited by streams of human beings, lovers of nature and students of art; but is more especially dear to the thousands of sickly invalids, who--

Journeying there from lands of wintry clime, Find life and health 'midst scenery sublime.

But, to be truly candid, I must confess that, while humbly trusting I have succeeded in making this little book both interesting and instructive, one of the chief reasons for my putting pen to paper has been to make an effort, however feeble, to expose the deadly evils of the plague-spot of this paradise, Monte Carlo.

From this centre there circulates a gambling fever not only throughout the Riviera--from Cannes to Genoa--but everywhere its victims may carry it. After being stamped out from all the German watering-places, the demon "Play" has fixed his abode in this fair spot, in the very pathway of invalids and others, and, under the ægis of a corrupt prince and his subjects who share the proceeds of the gaming-tables, this valued health resort, which was surely designed by a beneficent Creator for the happiness of His creatures, is turned into a pandemonium.

"Base men to use it to so base effect."

Few can be wholly unaware of the sad effects resulting from this gambling mania, whereby the happiness of many homes is wrecked, and thousands of our fellow-creatures are brought to ruin and a shameful end.

During the past season the public papers have teemed with instances of Monte Carlo suicides,[A] the lifeless bodies of its victims frequently being found at early dawn in the charming gardens surrounding the Casino. The gen d'arme patrol is so accustomed to the occurrence, it is said, as to view the object with perfect sang froid, but, let us rather hope, with pitying eye.

It may possibly be said, Why all this virtuous indignation about Monte Carlo, when gambling, to a frightful extent, is carried on at our clubs and stock exchanges in England? I can only answer, two wrongs can never make one right; besides, Monte Carlo cannot be allowed to exist as an independent principality when conducted so dishonestly and detrimentally to the highest interests of humanity.

I am thankful to feel that the matter has now been brought before the Parliaments of England and Italy, and even France, and has been the subject of diplomatic remonstrance. This is hopeful, but I have the greater hope in the power of public opinion and sympathy against this monstrous evil; and also in the belief that one of the highest developments of this nineteenth century is the recognition of the truth that "I am my brother's keeper."

LONDON, March, 1884.

[A] See Appendix.



PAGE Introduction--Charing Cross--Dover--Submarine Channel Tunnel --Calais--Advantages of travelling second class--Superfluous examination of luggage--Paris--Dining à la carte versus table d'hôte--Noël--An Officer's Funeral--Lyons--Scenery of the Rhone--Constant changes in the landscape--Want of proper accommodation at the railway stations--Defective lighting of railway carriages 1


Arrival at Marseilles--Change in climate--The mistral--Some account of Marseilles in the past--Marseillaise hymn--Docks and harbour--Hill-side scenery--Chateau d'If--La Dame de la Garde--Military practice--St. Nazaire--An ancient church--The Exchange--Courtiers of merchandise--Sunday at home and abroad 13


Leaving Marseilles--Toulon--Hyères--Fréjus--Coast scenery--The Hotel Windsor--An unexpected meeting, and a pleasant walk--Isles de Lerins--The Mediterranean--Defective drainage--Mosquitos and Nocturnal Pianos--Christmas Day--Cannes--The Pepper tree--The English Cemetery--Antibes--Miscalled Health Resorts--Grasse-- Orange blossoms--Leaving Cannes 23


Nice--Its persistently Italian character--Its gaming propensities --Hints about luggage--Old and New Towns--Flower-shops--A river laundry--The harbours of Nice and Villafranca--Scenery and climate of Nice--A cowardly outrage--In the Cathedral--Hotel charges--Leaving Nice 37


The beauty-spot and plague-spot of the Riviera--Arrival at Mentone--Hotel des Isles Britanniques--English church--Her Majesty's Villa--Gardens of Dr. Bennett--Custom-house--Remarks on Mentone--A charming walk--A word about Brigands--An adventure --In the cemetery--A labour of love--A frog concert--Excursion to Monte Carlo--Sublime coast scenery--Castle of Monaco--The sombre Olive--The exodus of the Caterpillars 49


Monte Carlo--In the Concert-room--The Gambling saloons--The Tables--The moth and the candle--The true story of Monte Carlo--An International grievance and disgrace 62


Scenery en route--Bordighera--Pegli--Genoa--Its magnificent situation--The grandeur of its past--The Harbour--Streets--Palaces --Cathedral of San Lorenzo--Sacred Catina--Chapel of St. John the Baptist--Italian Beggars--Sudden change in the atmosphere--The Campo Santo--Shops of Genoa--Marble promenade--City of precipices --Climate of Genoa 72


Pisa--Hotel Victoria--Pisan weather--The poet Shelley--Historic Pisa--Lung 'Arno--San Stefano di Canalia--Cathedral--Baptistery --Leaning Tower--Campo Santo--The divine angels--The great chain of Pisa--Leghorn--Smollett's grave--Poste-restante--A sweet thing in Beggars--Ugolino's Tower--Departure for Rome 83


Arrival in Rome--Hotel de la Ville--The Corso--The Strangers' Quarter--Roman Guides--View from the Capitol--"How are the mighty fallen!"--The sculpture-gallery of the Capitol--The Dying Gladiator --The Venus--Hawthorne's Marble Faun--Bambino Santissimo--The Mamertine Prison--The Forum--Palaces--The Coliseum--Longfellow's "Michael Angelo" 92


Trajan's Gate--The Appian Way--The English Cemetery--Catacombs of St. Calixtus--Reflections on the Italian seat of government --Churches--S. Paolo Fuori le Mura--Santa Maria Maggiore--S. Pietro in Vincoli--"Was St. Peter ever in Rome?"--Fountains of Rome--Dell' Aqua Felice--Paulina--Trevi--Rome's famous Aqueducts --Beggars--Priests 106


Papal Rome--Narrow streets--St. Angelo--Benvenuto Cellini--St. Peter's--Pietà Chapel--The Dead Christ--Tomb of the Stuarts-- Anniversary of St. Peter's--Grand ceremonial--Cardinal Howard --The Vatican--Pictures--Pauline and Sistine Chapels--"The Last Judgment"--Pinacoteca--Raphael's "Transfiguration"--"The Madonna"--Christian Martyrs--Sculptures--Tapestries--Leo XIII.--Italian Priesthood--St. John Lateran--Marvellous legends and relics--Native irreverence to sacred edifices 119


Excursion to Tivoli--Sulphur baths--Memories--Temple of the Sybil --River Anio--Lovely scenery--Back to Rome--Post-office--Careless officials--The everlasting "Weed"--Climate of Rome--Discomforts and disappointments--Young Italy--Leo XIII.--Italian Politics--Cessation of Brigandage--The new City--American church--Italian Times-- Departure for Naples--Regrets--The Three Taverns--A picturesque route--Naples by night 137


Naples--Bristol Hotel--Via Roma--King Bomba's time--Deterioration of the Neapolitans--Museum--Churches--The Opera-house--English and Italian beauty--Aquarium--Vesuvius--Excursion to Pompeii-- Portici--A novel mode of grooming--The entombed city--Its disinterment--Museum, streets, and buildings--Remarks--A cold drive 151


Unprecedented cold of 1883--Departure from Naples--Virgil's tomb--Journey to Messina--Italy's future--Scylla and Charybdis --Beautiful Messina--The "Electrico"--Malta--Knight Crusaders --Maltese Society--An uncommon fish--An earthquake at sea--Journey to Palermo--Picturesque scenery--Etna--Among the mountains--The lights of Palermo 168


Palermo--Oriental aspects--Historical facts--Royal Palace--Count Roger--The Piazzi Planet--The Palatine Chapel--Walk to Monreale --Beauty of the Peasantry--Prickly pears--"The Golden Shell"-- Monreale Cathedral--Abbey and Cloisters--English church--Palermo Cathedral--Churches--Catacombs of the Capuchins--Gardens--Palermo aristocracy--The Bersaglieri--Sicilian life and characteristics --Climate and general features 191


Annexation of Nice and Savoy--Garibaldi's protest--A desperate venture--Calatafimi--Catania--Melazzo--Entry into Naples--Gaeta --The British Contingent--Departure from England--Desertion-- Arrival in Naples--Colonel "Long Shot"--Major H----'s imaginary regiment--Dispersion of the British Contingent 204


Floods in France--London--Back to the South--Marseilles--Italian Emigrant passengers--A death on board--French impolitesse --Italian coast scenery at dawn--Unlimited palaver--Arrival in Leghorn--The "Lepanto"--Departure--"Fair Florence"--The Arno --Streets--Palaces--San Miniato--The grand Duomo--The Baptistery --Ghiberti's Bronze Gates 217


Santa Croce--San Lorenzo--Day and Night--Picture-galleries--The Tribune--Venus di Medicis--Excursion to Fiesole--Ancient Amphitheatre--Aurora Café--Climate of Florence--Heavy hotel charges--Departure--Bologna sausages--Venice 228


Arrival in Venice--The Water City--Gondola traffic--Past glories --Danieli's Royal Hotel--St. Mark's Piazza--The Sacred Pigeons --St. Mark's--Mosaics--The Holy Columns--Treasures--The Chian Steeds--The modern Goth 241


A water-excursion--The Bridge of Sighs--Doge's Palace--Archæological Museum--The Rialto--The streets of Venice--Aids to disease--Venetian Immorality--The Arsenal--Nautical Museum--Trip to Lido--Glass works --Venetian evenings--The great Piazza--Scene on the Piazzetta-- Farewell to Venice 253


Leaving Venice--Hervey's Lament--Scenery en route--Padua-- Associations of the past--A brief history of Padua, and the House of Carrara--General appearance of the town--Giotto's Chapel--His beautiful frescoes--Character of Giotto's work--The Cathedral-- Palazzo della Ragione--The Wooden Horse--St. Antonio--The Hermitage--The Fallen Angels--The University and its students --Ladies of Padua--Situation of the city--An old bridge--Climate 264


Journey from Padua--The great Quadrilateral--Historic Verona--Hotel due Torri--Recent inundations--Poetic Verona--House of the Capulets --Juliet's tomb--Streets and monuments--Cathedral--Roman Amphitheatre --Shops--Veronese ladies--Departure--Romantic journey--Lake Garda --Desenzano--Brescia 274


Arrival in Milan--Railway station--Tram carriages--History and present condition--The Cathedral--Irreverence of Italian Priests --The Ambrosian Liturgy--Sunday school--S. Carlo Borromeo--Relics --A frozen flower-garden--View from the tower 287


Milan--Social and charitable--How to relieve our Poor--Leonardo's "Last Supper"--Condition of churches in Italy--Santa Maria delle Grazie--La Scala--Picture-galleries--St. Ambrogio--Ambrosian library--Public gardens--Excursion to the Lakes--Monza--Como --Lake scenery--Bellagio--American rowdyism 300


Climate of Milan--Magenta--Arrival in Turin--Palazzo Madama-- Chapel of the Holy Napkin--The lottery fever--View from the Alpine Club--Superga--Academia della Science--Departure--Mont Cenis railway--The great Tunnel--Modane--Farewell to Italy 315


From Modane to Paris--Lovely scenery--St. Michel--St. Jean de Maurienne--Epierre--Paris--Notre Dame--French immorality--La Manche--"Dear old foggy London"--Reflections and conclusion 330




Introduction--Charing Cross--Dover--Submarine Channel Tunnel--Calais --Advantages of travelling second class--Superfluous examination of luggage--Paris--Dining à la carte versus table d'hôte--Noël--An Officer's Funeral--Lyons--Scenery of the Rhone--Constant changes in the landscape--Want of proper accommodation at the railway stations-- Defective lighting of railway carriages

If any person is desirous of putting forward a good excuse for spending a few weeks on the continent, the climate of the British Isles at any time of the year, but more particularly between November and May, will always justify his so doing. To exchange the damp and fog that too frequently form the staple of the weather about the festive time of Christmas and the opening of the new year, for the bright clear skies and sunny days of the south of France and Italy, is so pleasant, and travelling is now so easy and so cheap, the only wonder is that more people do not take advantage of it to leave "the winter of their discontent" for a short time at this season.

In our case--that is, of myself and my wife--having not only this disposition for a trip of a month or so, but also the leisure time at our disposal, the only question was, in what particular direction was our Hegira to be?

Our object being purely that of pleasantly spending our time and seeing as many interesting places and objects as we possibly could, it really mattered little whither we steered our course, provided it was to climes where fogs are known to the natives only by hearsay, where Nature assumes a brighter aspect, and Art collects her treasures to reward the traveller for his pains.

We took down that most instructive though mysterious of all books, "Bradshaw," and spreading out the map showing various continental lines of railway, proceeded to study the network puzzle with a view of determining which should be the land of our pilgrimage.

Should we cross the Pyrenees and traverse Spain, visiting Madrid and the Escurial en route to Seville, and thence through Andalusia and Granada, and home by Valencia, Malaga, and Barcelona? Visions of Don Quixote, Gil Blas, the Great Cid, and the Holy (?) Inquisition passed before our mental eye in wondrous confusion.

"No, I don't think Spain will do," remarked my wife, slowly. "I fear Spanish hotels--posadas, don't they call them?--are not very comfortable."

"You are right," was my reply. "I have never heard Spain praised for her hotel accommodation; and as we are going for pleasure, and wish to be as comfortable as possible, we will leave Spain till posadas are things of the past. But what do you say to Italy? Beautiful climate, charming scenery, the choicest Art treasures in the world, every mile teeming with historic and poetic interest, good hotels, and generally comfortable travelling!"

"Yes, Italy will do," decided my wife; and we folded up the map and proceeded at once to examine the time-tables, lists of fares, calculate the costs of first and second class, and plan our route. The book of mystification was then almost ungratefully closed, and the serious business of packing commenced.

On the 20th of December, 1882, my wife and I,

"Fired with ideas of fair Italy,"

started on our travels in good spirits. Having secured our tickets, we put up at the Charing Cross Hotel for the night, so as to be ready to start the first thing in the morning.

Whatever vague feelings of regret we might secretly have nourished in leaving dear old England and our time-honoured, old-fashioned Christmas, were quickly dispelled the next morning, for as we sped away by the 7.40 train for Dover the weather assumed its most dismal aspect--cold, raw, damp, and foggy. So we started with easy consciences, resolved to obtain all possible benefit and enjoyment from the change.

Before reaching Dover, a little sunshine struggled forth to gladden us; but it was blowing rather hard when we arrived at our destination, and there was something of a sea to frighten the timorous. Being pretty fair sailors, however, and by the exercise of a little thoughtful physical preparation, we did not suffer from the voyage, and were able to render some assistance to others less fortunate.

After being at sea even for a few hours, there is much in the sound of "land ahead" to raise one's spirits, perhaps more especially when crossing the Channel. There is no one who does not hail with delight the first sight of the shore. It gladdens the hearts of the sickly ones, and soon their childlike helplessness disappears; hope and life return, sending the warm blood once more to the pallid cheek, and lighting the languid eye with fresh joy and anticipation. It is pleasant to see how quickly the sufferers shake off the evil spirit of the sea--the terrible mal de mer, pull themselves together, and step on shore, beaming with heroic smiles.

It is just at this time that the submarine Channel Tunnel scheme possesses peculiar interest for the thoughtful. All lovers of Old England feel proudly and justly that this little "silver streak," with its stormy waves and rock-bound shores, is, under the blessing of Providence, her natural and national strength and glory. It has made her sons daring and hardy, industrious, prosperous, and happy. It has enabled her to people more than half the world with the Anglo-Saxon race, and has extended her empire and influence beyond the setting sun. It has made her the arbiter of the world, her sword--nay, her very word, turning the scale against any power of wrong and might. It has protected the world against the lust and avarice of Spain, and the conquering tyranny of a Napoleon. It has made her the Bank and commercial depôt of the whole globe, and the first of civilized and civilizing powers.

It is true that the more closely nations are connected by mutual interests, the more prosperous they become and the more friendly they are. And doubtless such a means of communication between Great Britain and the continent would materially increase that mutual interest--might even make sulky France more friendly towards us, and probably prove of benefit both commercially and socially; but only so long as the insular power of England is maintained. Although our army and navy are hardly as strong as they should be, we want no conscription here. What we do want is to preserve the peace and honour of our homes, our children in the colonies, and to increase rather than decrease the power of England for the good of the whole world.

Therefore, if a tunnel or tunnels be made, we must be sure beforehand that they can be perfectly protected against the means of surprise and invasion, that in no manner of way can they be made a weak point in our harness. As for destroying the tunnel, there would in all probability be a train or two in it when a surprise was intended, and what commander would blow up or destroy it under such circumstances? I fear the tunnel would prove a grand place for ruffians; and what hideous depredations and murderous attacks might not be committed in transit! Five minutes is in all conscience long enough to be under the depressing influence of a Hadean tunnel, but it would be an evil spirit who could tolerate it for the best part of an hour.

Arrived at Calais, the train was already waiting to carry us onward, but there was ample time for breakfast.

Calais station always seems to be undergoing a certain kind of metamorphosis; and with its sand-hills and generally unfinished condition, reminds the traveller of some remote part of the world, such as Panama, for instance. Some day it may possibly be able to digest the passenger traffic from England to the continent, but at present much time is lost there from its being so gorged. It is absolutely refreshing to catch a glimpse of the Calais fish women, with their gay costume, wonderfully frilled, spotless white caps, and healthy faces.

Soon we are spinning along towards Paris, the weather pretty fine so far, but the country sadly flooded; and, the lowlands being under water, the gaunt and leafless poplar trees are the most conspicuous objects of the landscape. Then for miles we travel along through a gloomy drizzling rain, the land looking most forlornly desolate. The arrival at Amiens, however, cheers us a little, and here we get a stretch and some refreshment. After leaving this place, always interesting for its beautiful Cathedral, the weather brightens up, and we reach Paris in good time for dinner.

Thus far we have found travelling second class very agreeable, for when the trains are fast there are advantages in so doing--more room and less expense than by first class.

At Paris the examination of luggage is a perfect nuisance. An Englishman, and still more an English woman, very reluctantly hands over her keys to a French gen d'arme, who, be your presence never so imposing, ruthlessly capsizes your careful and thoughtful stowage, whilst you angrily or impatiently watch your travelling sanctum pried into by dirty-handed, over-zealous officials. The one examination at Calais, when there was plenty of time, should surely have sufficed; but at the end of a journey, when one is tired and anxious to get to one's hotel and dinner, it is aggravating beyond measure.

On this occasion the ladies' baggage was particularly selected for inspection, much to the annoyance of my wife, who most unwillingly gave up her keys, and declared her opinion that "it was because gentlemen put their cigars into the ladies' trunks." Of course this fully explained it!

There is some difficulty in claiming one's possessions after their examination, as there are legions of voracious hotel touters ready to pounce upon not only "somebody's," but everybody's luggage, and the owners too, if possible, and carry all off to the omnibuses attached to their several hotels.

However, we at last arrive at the St. James Hotel, in the Rue St. Honorè, where, as usual, there is quite an army of waiters to welcome the "coming guest." To an inexperienced traveller, and indeed to my pleased wife, this is gratefully accepted as a warm welcome, but those who have had some little experience know better, or rather worse. Fortunately, we secure a room on the third floor, and therefore so far carry out our resolutions of economy! and now, in preference to the sumptuous table d'hôte, we decide to dine à la carte, which means a little table to yourself, where you may select what you wish to eat, have it at any hour you please, and pay for just what you order. This is not only less expensive, but far more quiet and comfortable after the fatigue of a journey, than the crowded and imposing table d'hôte, with its never-ceasing clatter and chatter, where you will be lucky if you find a dish that will prove agreeable to your palate. Sometimes, however, the change is enjoyable, as you cannot fail to be amused at the eccentricities of your neighbours; perhaps finding your own weaknesses reflected in them. Often you will find a dozen nationalities represented, and a perfect Babel-like talk, each little exclusive party, like crows, intent only upon covering its own nest.

Paris is beautifully brilliant at the festive seasons, the shops filled with lovely and costly presents, arranged with that exquisite taste so natural to the French artiste. I think they have some very pretty sentiments about their "Noël." For instance, at early morn on Christmas Day, whilst still in the land of dreams, a light tap comes at your chamber door, and on rising you find it is a messenger bearing a bouquet of choice and lovely flowers, with some dear friend's greeting.

Unfortunately the weather continued wet and cold; still, under cover of the colonnades and on the fine boulevards there is always so light-hearted and gay a throng, and so much to interest one, that it is impossible to feel dull. Things here, however, quickly change from gay to grave. A general officer's funeral passed through the boulevards where we were standing, followed by a procession in which nearly every branch of the army was represented. The open hearse, with coffin, was covered with beautiful wreaths of flowers, among which lay the deceased officer's sword, honours, etc. The touching expression of regret in the faces of his comrades, and the respectful reverence evinced by the people, making it altogether a very impressive sight.

The weather being still so wet, we decided not to remain after the second day, and on the following morning left Paris by the 9.40 train for Marseilles. The long journey, occupying some fourteen or fifteen hours, is exceedingly tedious, and should be broken at Lyons, especially in the summer-time.

Lyons is one of the largest and most important cities in France, very interesting in its manufactures, and well worth a day or two's visit. Unfortunately, like its sister Marseilles, with its huge working population, it is extremely democratic, and only quite lately has been the scene of a kind of communistic outbreak. The neighbouring scenery is very striking and beautiful, in some places grand. We were reminded somewhat of the Thames at Charing Cross when passing over the noble bridge, with the great city stretching far and wide, and the numerous bridges spanning the river. At night the illumination is a pretty and brilliant sight.

In the summer the journey from Lyons to Marseilles in one of the many flat-bottomed steamers would be very enjoyable, and a pleasant break to the pent-up, wearisome railroad.

The scenery much resembles the Rhine, with its high cliffs, richly wooded promontories, historic and baronial castles, and picturesque chateaux. The turbulent river in some places dashing wildly by, and separating two beautiful shores.

"Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between Heights which appear, as lovers who have parted In hate, whose mining depths so intervene, That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted. Love was the very root of the fond rage Itself expired, but leaving them an age Of years all winters,--war within themselves to wage."

How grand and sublime that part of the Rhone must appear, with its great forest-clad cliffs, and the rushing foaming waters during a thunderstorm!

The land is full of ancient interests, especially near Marseilles, at Avignon and Arles. Here we meet with many old Roman settlements and ruins.

Passing thus swiftly through France, we obtain a wonderfully comprehensive idea of the country, and note the different products of the soil springing into view in ever-varying profusion, making a continuous change in the appearance of the landscape--a change which would perhaps be less noticeable were the journey performed in a more leisurely manner. Thus we pass from the wheat-growing country to the land of the vine, and thence to that of the olive. And one cannot help being struck by the wonderful industry of the people, women taking almost more than their fair share of out-door work, in the fields, etc. Up to the very summit of the hills and rocky knolls, terrace upon terrace, every inch of ground, seems to be well cultivated.

I could not but think that in some places women are employed out of their proper sphere, more particularly at the railway stations, where one is shocked to find a woman where none but a man should be. And while on this subject, it may be well to remark how exceedingly disgusting some of the retiring places are at these stations--at all events, to English men and women, who do not like being treated as cattle. At some places it is really shocking, and the Lyons and Mediterranean railway officials should certainly rectify this evil without loss of time; for if the unpleasantness is so great in winter, what must it be during the hot months?

The officials are most exemplary in providing fresh foot-warmers, but not so particular in a more important matter--that of lighting the carriages, even the first-class compartments being dull and gloomy in the extreme. The kind of oil burnt has probably something to do with it.
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