Or how there was detention at Marseilles from stress of weather;
and steamers were advertised to go, which did not go; or how the
good Steam-packet Charlemagne at length put out, and met such
weather that now she threatened to run into Toulon, and now into
Nice, but, the wind moderating, did neither, but ran on into Genoa
harbour instead, where the familiar Bells rang sweetly in my ear.
Or how there was a travelling party on board, of whom one member
was very ill in the cabin next to mine, and being ill was cross,
and therefore declined to give up the Dictionary, which he kept
under his pillow; thereby obliging his companions to come down to
him, constantly, to ask what was the Italian for a lump of sugar--a
glass of brandy and water--what's o'clock? and so forth: which he
always insisted on looking out, with his own sea-sick eyes,
declining to entrust the book to any man alive.
Like GRUMIO, I might have told you, in detail, all this and
something more--but to as little purpose--were I not deterred by
the remembrance that my business is with Italy. Therefore, like
GRUMIO'S story, 'it shall die in oblivion.
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