is with all the
comforts of an English inn,--with a feeling of home-comfort such as I
have rarely experienced.

CHAPTER XX.

FROM LEGHORN TO ROME.

First Sight of the Mediterranean--Embark at Leghorn--Elba--Italian
Coast--Civita Vecchia--Passport Offices--Aspect and Population of
Civita Vecchia--Papal Dungeons--Start for Rome--First View of the
Campagna--Its Desolation--Changed Times--The Postilion--The
Road--The Milestones--First Sight of the Eternal City--The
Gate--Desolate Look of the City by Night--The Pope's Custom-House
and Custom-House Officer.

I rose early next morning, and walked down to the harbour, to have my
first sight of the Mediterranean,--that renowned sea, on whose shores
the classic nations of antiquity dwelt, and art and letters arose,--on
whose waters the commerce of the ancient world was carried on, and the
battles of ancient times fought,--whose scenery had often inspired the
Greek and Latin poets,--and the grandeur of whose storms Inspiration
itself had celebrated. A stiff breeze was blowing, and a white curl
crested the wave, and freckled the deep blue of the waters. The
Mediterranean looked young and joyous in the morning sun, as when it
bore the fleets of Tyre, or heard the victorious shouts of Rome, albeit
it is now edged with mouldering cities, and listens only to the clank of
chains and the sigh of enslaved nations.

Early in the forenoon I waited on the Rev. Dr Stewart, the accomplished
minister of the Free Church in Leghorn. He opened freely to me his ample
stores of information on the subject of Tuscany, and the work in
progress in that country. We called afterwards on Mr Thomas Henderson, a
native of Scotland, but long settled in Leghorn as a merchant. This kind
and Christian man has since, alas! gone to his grave; but the future
historian of the Reformation in Italy will rank him with those pious
merchants in our own land who in former days consecrated their energy
and wealth to the work of furthering the Gospel, and of sheltering its
poor persecuted disciples. After sojourning so long among strange faces
and strange tongues, it was truly pleasant to meet two such
friends,--for friends I felt them to be, though never till that day had
I seen their faces.

At four of the afternoon I embarked in the steamer for Civita Vecchia,
the port of Rome. The vessel I did not like at first: it was dirty,
crowded, and, from some fault in the loadin