Three Months Abroad Part 7

I went directly from those tombs to the one where the great master reposes. It is in the church of Santa Croce, that the dust of Michael Angelo mingles with that of Galileo, and of many other great men. The allegorical figure of Italy sorrowing over the grave of Alfieri, who also rests within the walls of this church, is by Canova, and is as beautiful a monument as any poet could wish to have erected over his grave.

With a feeling not free from regret, we left Florence early one morning, in a fragrant May shower, that cooled and refreshed the air, and made the garden-country all around look fresher and lovelier than ever. We travelled in the same carriage with the well known Padre Gavazzi, who was not satisfied with the festival, as according to his opinion, it had not been of a character sufficiently decided political and religious.

When changing our carriage at Bologna, I suddenly found myself face to face with Mdlle. S--, and her father, who had been among our travelling companions from Trieste to Smyrna, and who were returning from their pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Their journey may have been one of intense enjoyment, it certainly had been one of great fatigue. The poor girl looked thin and worn, and spoke to me of her adventures with a woeful countenance. The expression of her face was at the same time exceedingly comical, and I could not help laughing at her tale, a laugh in which the good natured girl heartily joined, although it was partly at her own expense. According to her account, and her wan cheeks, and dim, l.u.s.treless eyes, confirmed what she said, the fatigues and dangers of the excursion to the Holy Land, must have been very great indeed. The Germans are not an equestrian nation. Of the forty excursionists, not one was a very proficient rider; in fact few of them had ever been on horse or donkey-back before. The consequence was an uninterrupted series of accidents as soon as travelling on horseback became, as it is everywhere in the East, the only mode of transit.

The poor girl had slipped off her horse with saddle and all, at a most dangerous spot in going to the Dead Sea; she might have been seriously injured, as she could not extricate herself at once, and the horse was moving on. Fortunately the young Kentuckian, who, as I had observed on the steamboat, was always trying to be near that "nice German girl," was close behind her. He jumped from his horse and caught hold of hers, so that she was able to get up, having sustained no great injury beyond the fright. She feelingly remarked, that fortunately her papa was far behind. He only heard of the accident, when the saddle and the young lady were safe again on the back of the steed. The poor man had been out of his saddle more than once, but without other injury than a sprain of his foot, which obliged him to lie down for a few days, and hurt him for many more.

Poor M. L--, a professor from Prague, did not escape so easily. In one of his falls he managed so badly that he hurt his leg seriously.

Inflammation set in, and he had forty leeches applied to it. But what might have been the worst of all accidents, happened to Mme. de H--, the sister of the Archbishop. Horse and lady fell down together, and turned over and over before either got up again. The fair rider however escaped unhurt. I was sorry that there was no time for Mdlle. S. to tell me of all the accidents that befell these unlucky excursionists, for every one met with some mishap, either in Palestine or Egypt, with the exception of the four young Americans and old General T--. The latter seemed as much at home in Jerusalem and Cairo, as he had been on board the Neptune. He always ate with a tremendous appet.i.te whatever the fare might be, and slept like a bear on whatever couch he rested.

The guard, who called out that the train for Milan was going to start, interrupted our conversation. Mdlle. S-- took up a little box, which she had set down near her, and which contained a small tortoise, which poked its head through a hole in the lid. This and a sh.e.l.l, which she wore as a sign of her pilgrimage on her little hat, was, as far as I could see, all she had to recompense her for the endless troubles and fatigues of her journey.

And now I will hasten to conclude mine; for after we left Florence the journey no longer offered any great attractions. The places I saw now, I had already seen before, nor could they vie with those I had so lately visited. Now I was with heart and soul already in England, at home with my children. Oh, how slowly the express train travels! How long is a night in a railway carriage! Shall we rest a day at Paris? No, I am not tired. I cross the Channel as in a dream. There are the white cliffs of Dover, I am in old England! Fly away train, rush along, take me home, home!

At last the train stops, a few minutes bring me to our garden gate. I fly through the garden, the door opens. Yes, there they are all, and all well! My baby climbs up a chair, and clings round my neck; the boys make a deafening noise, and I believe the mamma is almost as noisy.

And now I leave them, though for a few minutes only. I sit down in my own room, on my own chair, and all at once I feel I am tired. I shut my eyes, out of which tears steal, and my full heart thanks Him, who gave me the joys of the journey, who brought me safely home to my children and who watched over them, and preserved them while I was away.

THE END.