standing; the whole of the following morning it did not rain but pour, and, the period of my staying at Taggia drawing towards an end, I began to entertain serious apprehensions lest I should. have to put off my survey of Sanremo to next year, or indeed the next after that. Who could tell?

Yes, gentle reader, it rains at Taggia, and even at Sanremo. But be not alarmed; it rains very seldom-too seldom, I was going to say. In the last-named locality there are from 40 to 50 wet days in the year, divided thus: 15 to 20 in the autumn, 12 to 15 in the winter, 10 to 15 in the spring, and 5 to 6 in the summer. Altogether you may count on 250 fine days-really fine sunny days. One might be satisfied with less; what do you say?

Fortunately the weather got out of its fit of sulks quickly, as it generally does in these latitudes. The sky cleared towards the evening, and on the morrow there was not a cloud to intercept the brightness of the sun's rays. By ten o'clock in the forenoon, now in the warm sunshine, oftener under the light mysterious shade of the overhanging olive-trees, we had cleared at a brisk trot the short inland cut which separates Taggia from the high road to Nice, and, turning to the right, were traversing the small hamlet of Arma, the headquarters at present of the engineers and workmen employed on the railroad, which, in a couple of years, is to bind in its iron grasp the whole of the Riviera from Genoa to Nice. Here is a change indeed from the days of my boyhood! -a change whose result will be nothing less in due time than a radical transformation for the better in the intellectual and economical conditions of the country.

At this point the wide sea bursts upon view, and one's spirits expand with the spreading horizon, and dance with the waves breaking softly on the beach, along which the road continues to wind. But what huge rock is that yonder rising from out the sea? I do not recollect having ever remarked it before. "That is Corsica," replied Bernardino, laughing

in his sleeve. in his sleeve. Bless me, so it was! I

had seen it hundreds of times formerly. from Genoa, looming in the distance, but never once in my life standing in such distinct relief against the sky. Some optical phenomenon made it appear so close that really one might have thought of hiring a boat in the belief that it could be reached in a couple of hours. It was a sight worth seeing.

In less than an hour after we were passing by the numerous country-houses which, scattered among vines and orange groves, form a smiling suburb to Sanremo, on this its eastern side. Here I stood up. I have forgotten to say in its proper place, and I repair the omission, that I had left the inside of the carriage to my companions, who must excuse me if, for brevity's sake, L keep them out of sight, and that, to enjoy the prospect more fully, I had perched myself on the box by the side of Bernardino. So then I stood up, and, peering earnestly before and behind, to the right and the left, and up and down the road, and descrying not the least trace of the dreaded city band, I made bold to desire Bernardino to drive at a slow pace through the town, and not to stop for any call, or halt whatever, until we reached the Convent of the Cappucini, which lies quite at the western extremity of Sanremo.

I had a double motive for acting thus. First of all, I wished to pay my respects to my old friend Padre Tommaso, and I apprehended that, if I delayed my call until I had met Doctor Panizzi, whose guests we were to be, other calls and sight-seeing might interfere with my visit to the Capuchin. Padre Tommaso had last seen me under a threatening cloud, and I was not sorry to show myself to him now, basking in the sunshine of popularity, and taking "fortune's buffets and rewards with equal thanks."

My second motive was that the impressions I might receive from what I was about to see, should be quite spontaneous and perfectly uninfluenced by those of others.

The order to Bernardino had not been

given a minute before we came upon a building which I was sure was new. It was a beautiful mansion to our left, with a neat sweep up to the door, and shut off from the road by high iron rails. It bore inscribed on its front, "Hotel Victoria." Prepared as I was for something very handsome in the way of hotels, I confess that the reality surpassed my expectations; and I had not quite recovered from my agreeable surprise, when lo, and behold! another new house confronts me, this time on my right. This also has a nice sweep, and this also is an hotel, as an inscription in cubital letters-" Hotel d'Angleterre"-informs wayfarers. Another two minutes, and we enter Sanremo by the beautiful boulevart that you know. My eyes naturally search for the long and well-known Hotel della Palma, and instead of its grim familiar face find the "Hotel de la Grande Bretagne." Where is the old barrack gone? With the new name, it seems, it has put on a new skin, and a very pleasing one. Upon my word, thought I, a much larger place than this might well be proud of three such hotels. I must have thought aloud, for Bernardino said, "There is a fourth, sir." "A fourth! "A fourth let us go and look at it ;" and at five minutes' distance, past a turning of the road, there towered above us what we might have taken for a palace, but for the name inscribed on its façade, "Hotel de Londres."

So we say Hotel de Londres, Hotel de la Grande Bretagne, Hotel Victoria, Hotel d'Angleterre-four titles which are tantamount to a formal declaration. The reader has not waited till now to guess Sanremo's secret. Yes, Sanremo is in love with the English-Sanremo has been in love with the English for many years past. There's nothing that Sanremo will not do to propitiate the English. Sanremo will build more hotels, will lay out more new streets, will commit any extravagance. Sanremo is ready, in order to make room for its wished-for guests, to do like the Romans of old, go and bivouac on any of the seven hills on which it is said to stand.

But Sanremo must have plenty of English, or die.

On our way back to the Convent we met Doctor Panizzi in hot chase of us; so we got out of the carriage, and, after a cordial greeting given and received, it was agreed that my companions should go shopping (Sanremo is a little capital for Taggia and the surrounding small towns), and that the Doctor should accompany me to Padre Tommaso. We rang, and rang, and rang the Convent bell for a quarter of an hour at least without succeeding in bringing anybody to the door. It was the hour, I suppose, of the monks' meditation; so, our time being short, I gave up in despair Padre Tommaso, and went instead, as it was my duty to do, to pay my respects to the Mayor and the gentlemen of the depu tation. This done, we joined our shopping friends on the boulevart, as we had previously settled, and walked viribus unitis to our head-quarters to be, the Hotel d'Angleterre.

Had I had any option in the matter, which was not the case, and, as it seems, could not be the case, it would have been the hotel of my choice for the simple reason that the landlord was my old acquaintance, Signor Angelino of the "Palma." But Doctor Panizzi, when he had done me the honour of coming to see me at Taggia, had explained to me that I could not go to any one of the Sanremo hotels upon my own account without the certainty of offending, if not injuring, the other three,-an inconvenience that might be remedied, however, if I, with my party of course, would consent to be his guests at an hotel of his own choosing. I confess I did not much see the difference; still, considering the earnestness with which the proposal was urged, I thought it wise to comply with it. Perhaps it was only a blind to induce me to accept of the Doctor's hospitality.

Be this as it may, here we were at the Hotel d'Angleterre, shaking hands with Signor Angelino, who was waiting for us at the door, and whose reception of me did not lack in cordiality this time. Dinner would be on the table within

ten minutes a not unwelcome announcement and perhaps in the meantime, suggested the landlord, it might amuse us to take a look at the internal arrangements of the Hotel. We asked for nothing better. We accordingly went over the whole house: it is not large, and it was therefore easy to inspect all the details; and the more we saw the greater our surprise and gratification. It was like a dream to me, who could contrast the past with the present, to find myself in a Sanremo hotel replete with every comfort which characterizes a good Swiss inn, that perfection of its kind. Carpets everywhere, stairs included, well-furnished sitting-rooms, nice white-curtained bedrooms, good iron bedsteads, mirrors and dressing-tables, washhand-stands with every appliance for ablutions, all other proper arrangements, fireplaces in every room, and abundance of arm-chairs and sofas. Some of the windows open into balconies, and all command a fine view, over intervening sloping wooded banks, of the sea, and of the town, climbing pyramid-like up its verdant hills; not to mention the sight of the road below, which, being a thoroughfare, and, besides, a favourite lounge of the residents, is not wanting in animation and attraction, especially at certain hours. The Hotel d'Angleterre seems built on purpose for persons of a sociable, yet shy temperament, who, though appreciating the advantages of an isolated position, and of the free play of the air, and the absence of bad smells which it secures, yet enjoy feeling themselves in some sort of communication with their fellow-creatures. Sketchers especially, and lovers of picturesque groups, will find here ample and not-to-be-despised pabulum for their brush or pencil.

Nothing could be more cheerful than the salle à manger, where we sat down to dinner, with its fine prospect and gaily-painted ceiling-nothing more inviting than the dinner-table, with its rich display of snow-white damask, silver, and glass, all glancing in the reflex of a bright Italian November sun. Signor Angelino, dressed in a smart

black coat, took his place at the hospitable board, and did the honours in excellent style, and in a most cordial spirit. We were waited upon no longer by the dirty whistling little fellow, but by a couple of good-sized, clean-looking, black-coated, regular waiters.

The dinner was capital, and so were the wines. At dessert we had a plentiful supply of champagne, and hearty were the toasts we drank to the prosperity of the Hotel d'Angleterre. Might all the expense and care lavished on it be repaid four-fold; might it soon be chokeful with guests from cellar to attic!

"May God hear you!" said Signor Angelino, with emotion; "for, if the English don't come, I don't know how it will fare with me; or rather, I know too well. I have staked upon this undertaking my all, and their all," pointing to his wife and daughters, who just then entered.

As he spoke, I for the first time remarked a certain alteration in his appearance. He had still the open blue eye of yore, and the frank, good-humoured face, but its once careless expression had fled from it. It was the same landscape, only there was no longer any sun on it.

"God will help us, and so will Signor Giovanni," said Signora Angelino, with an appealing glance to me. (It is customary in those parts to address people by their Christian names.)

"My dear signora," I replied, "I have only good wishes to give, and those are sincerely yours."

"Ah, Signor Giovanni, you can give something better than wishes, if you have the will," urged Signor Angelino. "You know the English; you can bring them to us; you brought the first who ever came here, you know."

It was as touching as it was absurd to see these simple-minded people pinning their success upon a retired student, as though he was a lord of the land, or a potent star of fashion. It was of no use to argue the point; so I contented myself with a still stronger declaration of my utter want of power, and at the same time of my good will.

We were just on the move to go and visit the other hotels, as I had been invited to do through Doctor Panizzi, when a messenger brought me a very nicely engraved plan of Sanremo, sent by the Marquis Borea, together with a request that I would do him the favour to come and pay him a visit. Straitened for time as I was, I could not refuse an old schoolfellow-one, moreover, nearly connected with a much-valued cousin of mine; so I went first to the marquis. Besides the natural and sincere wish to shake hands with an old friend, I found that the marquis had a second object in view in inviting me to his palazzo, for palazzo it is. He was desirous of showing me a part of it, which he had at last been persuaded to think of letting. Only the year before he had declined to let it to a very distinguished English lady, the Lady Herbert. But since then the current had become too strong even for him to resist, and he now also put in his claim for my patronage. My former schoolfellow, to my sorrow, shared in the general infatuation as to my powers of attraction.

I went over the apartment in question, a description of which, if at all adequate to its merits, would take more space than I can dispose of. I will only say that it is a princely suite of rooms, and that everything about it, size, pictures, furniture, &c. has that impress of grandeur which is a distinctive trait of a real Italian palace. It has an interest of another kind; it was there that Napoleon I. and Pope Pius VII. each passed a night. You can see the bedchamber unaltered in any respect since those personages occupied it. Annexed to the apartment is an enormous terrace, which brings to mind the Hanging Garden of Babylon.

As I came out of the Borea Palace, I was met by a priest, who wished me to go and inspect Villa Gnecco, a country house not more than ten minutes' walk from the town, and I was apologizing for my inability to do so, when a gentleman accosted me, and said he hoped I would honour with my presence the Casino, or Reading-room; and following close on No. 65.-VOL. XI.

the heels of this gentleman came another, with a third application on behalf of the School, or Liceo as they call it, of the town. I felt somewhat in the predicament of Figaro in the "Barbière"

"Figaro qua, Figaro la;

Uno alla volta, per carita."

In the impossibility of satisfying all demands, I determined in favour of knowledge; that is, I paid a flying visit to the Liceo. The establishment is airy, spacious, and clean, and I have it on good authority that it is well conducted. I can myself bear witness to the kindly manners of the principal, and of the professor of natural philosophy, who received us, as well as to the satisfactory appearance of the rooms appropriated to chemical and physical experiments. Indeed, we had nothing better at the University of Genoa in my time. Parents anxious that their youngsters should not lose their Latin, or forget their rules of three, or whatever they may have learnt as to electricity, may take the hint, and unite utile dulci,

On our way back towards the Victoria, my notice was called to a number of eligible houses both in the town and out, and more were mentioned to me, where lodgings could be had. So that persons inclined to prefer the quiet of a private lodging to the life more or less in common of an hotel, will have an embarras du choix.

The Hotel Victoria is a noble edifice indeed, one that would not disgrace a great metropolis. It is on a far larger scale than the Hotel d'Angleterre, a little further from the town, say five minutes more, and very comfortably and elegantly arranged in every respect. It possesses the advantage of a spacious garden on the side of the house facing the sea, from which the grounds are only separated by a belt of olive-trees. A more quiet, more sunny, or more lovely retreat one cannot imagine for persons in delicate health, who either cannot, or do not care to walk in streets or roads. To such I especially recommend the ground-floor, which opens into

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the garden. It is delightful. Here also the landlord had a long and anxious face, and of course appealed to me for help-"Mi_raccomando a Lei, Signor Dottore." I verily believe that he took me for Doctor Antonio. May Heaven help him and his hotel!

Our next visit was to have been for the Hotel de la Grande Bretagne; how or why it was that we postponed it till after we had been to the Hotel de Londres, I cannot say; this I know, that the inspection of the Hotel de Londres took up so much more time than we had anticipated, and, when at last we had done with it, it was so late, and we were so tired, that we had to give up seeing the Grande Bretagne ourselves. I can therefore only speak of it from report, and report, I am glad to say, speaks highly in its favour.

As we were walking past it on the Boulevart of the Palms, Doctor Panizzi pointed out to me, first, the spot where is to be erected a Protestant chapel-the Municipality have already granted a piece of land for that purpose-and, secondly, the sites of an intended new casino, or reading-room, and of a theatre. There is also a project for opening a new street parallel to Via Gioberti, leading from the boulevart to the sea, and for making a public walk along the edge of the beach-a modest imitation of the "Promenade des Anglais" at Nicewhich is certainly one of the most remarkable among the beautiful things of Europe. But, to realize these plans, a little time and a good deal of money are requisite, and encouragement on the part of those for whose sakes Sanremo chiefly wishes to beautify itself.

To speak only of the present. There already exists at Sanremo a promising germ of an English colony. Last winter it could boast of no less than fifteen families from Great Britain, amounting to nearly one hundred individuals; and let us hope that this present winter will see its numbers doubled. The colony counts among its members an English clergyman-who, until there shall be a chapel, performs divine service in a roomand an English physician, that same

Dr. Whitley, who favoured me with his visit at Taggia. Visitors inclined to consult local doctors will find skill, experience, and every care and attention from Doctor Panizzi, of Sanremo, and Doctor Martini, of Taggiathe valued friend and family physician of the writer of these lines. Both are very cautious as to bleeding, and both understand English. I have already said that there is a reading-room or a casino; I must add that there is also a bookseller's shop; both of which might certainly be better provided, the one with newspapers, the other with books; but with them, as with everything else, the supply will increase with the demand. There must be a beginning, you know. There are numerous pleasant walks in the town itself, and in its environs-one especially, that to the Madonna della Costa, which I recommend to all lovers of fine views. They will realize from thence that fine wordpicture of Coleridge :

". . . Stand on that sea-cliff's verge

Where the pine just travail'd by the breeze above

Makes one soft murmur with the distant

air,

Possessing all things with intensest love."

But we must not forget that we are bound for the Hotel de Londres. I visited it from top to bottom, and I cannot speak too highly of all its internal arrangements; they are neatness, comfort, and elegance combined. This Hotel is in a somewhat isolated position, to the west of Sanremo, though only ten minutes from it; but a bend of the road hides Sanremo from view. The prospect is very fine-the eye glides down a gentle verdant declivity till it rests upon the sea-the wide sea spreading to the horizon. To the right a promontory feathered with wood to its utmost edge shuts in a little bay, along whose base lie two dark rocks, against which breaks the silver spray of the The spot would be melancholy, if anything in this bright, smiling atmosphere could look otherwise than cheerful.

waves.