a few dragging trunks, but the
greater number with all their possessions in bags or bundles.

At ten o'clock on the night of March thirtieth, we stood at the rail
watching the lights on the shore gradually disappearing from sight as
the Moltke steamed away from the harbor.

"What must be the thoughts of these Neapolitan exiles as they sail away
from 'Sunny Italy,' their place of birth, their homeland, and their
friends?" mused my friend, referring to the emigrants gazing farewell
to their native land.

[Illustration: MANY CLOTHES-LINES WERE FILLED.]

"There is sadness in their hearts, for their faces and attitudes show
it," said he, answering his own question. "Some of the women are
shedding tears. But they are all hopeful. They have heard that in the
promised land there is plenty of work, high wages, enough to eat, and,
what is far better, opportunity to rise. In Italy there is scarcity of
work, low wages, a chunk of black bread, and nothing better to look
forward to in the future."

"You are right, young man, there is something to look forward to in
America, an opportunity to rise in the world," said a fellow tourist,
well known as a man of wealth and distinction. "I can sympathize with
these poor people who are seeking to better their condition. Thirty
years ago I was a poor man, leaving Europe in the steerage as an
emigrant to the land of promise. I worked my way to the West, became a
miner, and met with success."

"To reach America appears to be the desire of many in Italy," remarked
another. "In the elevator of one of the hotels in Naples I found the
elevator boy studying an English spelling book. He said, 'I am going to
America as soon as I have money enough; there is a chance for me to
become something if I can get to New York.' A cab driver asked me if I
knew his cousin in Chicago. 'My cousin,' said he, 'saved enough money to
buy a third-class passage to New York. That was just three years ago.
Now he is sending money home to his friends to take them over. He must
be doing well. We never have any money to give away.' Money to spare for
his friends! That told the cabman the story of a golden land."

On Tuesday, as we sailed northward, we passed the island of Elba, on
which the banished Napoleon remained ten months after his abdication. We
endeavored to recall the history of the events that preceded the great
Emperor's first downfall; the campaign in Russia, the burning of Moscow,
the winter retreat, the