I heard that it had
scarcely recovered from the disastrous effects of the floods during the
preceding December. One night it had rained heavily, and the next
morning, to the landlord's consternation, the courtyard was found to be
some six or seven feet deep in water; the cellars and lower rooms and
offices were completely swamped, and the horses had to be brought up to
the first floor. The visitors, some forty or fifty in number, were quite
unable to leave the hotel; and, owing to the incessant rain, this
pleasant state of affairs continued for a week. Many of the churches,
houses, and shops were eight feet under water, and ruin and destruction
seemed inevitable. Meanwhile gondolas and other boats were employed as
much as possible for the conveyance of food, etc., but the rush of the
water from the higher to the lower parts of the town was so great, it
was difficult to use them. It was not surprising, therefore, that the
town made a chill and dismal impression on us. We felt quite aggrieved
at thus being defrauded of Dickens' "Pleasant Verona." "Pleasant
Verona," says our delighted humorist, "with its beautiful old palaces,
and charming country in the distance, seen from terrace walks; and
stately balustraded galleries. With its Roman gates still spanning the
fair street, and casting on the sunlight of to-day the shade of fifteen
hundred years ago. With its marble-fitted churches, lofty towers, rich
architecture, and quaint old quiet thoroughfares, where shouts of
Montagues and Capulets once resounded:

"And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments
To wield old partisans.

With its fast rushing river, picturesque old bridge, great castle,
waving cypresses, and prospect so delightful and so cheerful! Pleasant
Verona!"

Verona is situated on the sides and at the base of a circle of hills,
in a bend of the river Adige, by which it is divided, so that when the
river is flooded by heavy rains, the low-lying parts of the town are
soon under water.

The name Verona brings a delicious flavour of romance and poetry with
it. If Shakespeare had only made it the birthplace of his "Two
Gentlemen," and the scene of Julia's sweet constancy, it would have been
enough to cast a halo over it; but all other associations pale before
the memory of the "star-crossed lovers," whose names rise to the mind at
the mention of Verona as readily as those of Portia and Shylock are
recalled at Venice