I sat up nearly
all night reading the book, and oh, how I cried! There never was such a
splendid fellow in real life as Doctor Antonio, except, of course, you.
And, do you know, if Brown had been born a gentleman I think _he_ might
have turned out something like that. I liked Taggia for Doctor Antonio's
sake; and I admired Porto Maurizio on its haughty promontory. It towers
in my recollection just as the real Porto Maurizio towers above the
indigo-blue sea, out of which it seems to grow.

If it hadn't been for Brown, I'm ashamed to say I shouldn't have known
much about the Ligurian Alps. Do you. Dad? They're frightfully
interesting, a sort of "bed rock" of Italian history. Dear me, how
ignorant one can be, when all the while one is quite pleased with
oneself as an Educated Person, with a capital E and P.

Alassio I thought a dear little place. You stopped there when you were
coaching, in your honeymoon days. How little you dreamed then that your
daughter would go tearing through on a motor? It has a nicer beach than
any of the rival towns we saw; no wonder the Italians love to bathe
there! Brown told me interesting stories about the enormous, lofty brick
towers of Albenza, that seemed to nod so drowsily over the narrow,
shadowed streets; Savona was too much modernised to please me, though
the name had chimed alluringly in my ears; and with Pra we were treading
on the trailing skirts of Genoa. Jimmy Payne had told Aunt Mary that it
was nicer to stay all night in Pegli than in Genoa, because there were
large gardens and a splendid view; but Brown said, if we would trust
him, he would take us to a hotel in the midst of Genoa, with a large
garden and a splendid view. So we did trust him--at least I did. And oh,
Dad, I had my first experience in driving through real, enormous city
traffic in Genoa! I _would_ try it; and I succeeded beyond my dreams. I
have got things to a fine point now, so that I manipulate the clutch and
throttle (don't they sound murderous?) almost automatically; and there's
something quite magical in the ease with which one can bring the car
instantly down to a crawling walk, which wouldn't disconcert a tortoise,
behind a string of carts, or at a touch dart ahead of the string, and
leave the swiftest horse as if he were standing still.

There must be comparatively few automobiles in Genoa, or else ours beat
the record for beauty; for people in the long, straight, narrow old
streets lined with palaces,