I strolled away from Genoa on the 6th of November, bound for a good
many places (England among them)
, But first for Piacenza; for which
town I started in the coupe of a machine something like a
travelling caravan, in company with the brave Courier, and a lady
with a large dog, who howled dolefully, at intervals, all night.
It was very wet, and very cold; very dark, and very dismal; we
travelled at the rate of barely four miles an hour, and stopped
nowhere for refreshment. At ten o'clock next morning, we changed
coaches at Alessandria, where we were packed up in another coach
(the body whereof would have been small for a fly), in company with
a very old priest; a young Jesuit, his companion--who carried their
breviaries and other books, and who, in the exertion of getting
into the coach, had made a gash of pink leg between his black
stocking and his black knee-shorts, that reminded one of Hamlet in
Ophelia's closet, only it was visible on both legs--a provincial
Avvocato; and a gentleman with a red nose that had an uncommon and
singular sheen upon it, which I never observed in the human subject
before. In this way we travelled on, until four o'clock in the
afternoon; the roads being still very heavy, and the coach very
slow. To mend the matter, the old priest was troubled with cramps
in his legs, so that he had to give a terrible yell every ten
minutes or so, and be hoisted out by the united efforts of the
company; the coach always stopping for him, with great gravity.
This disorder, and the roads, formed the main subject of
conversation. Finding, in the afternoon, that the coupe had
discharged two people, and had only one passenger inside--a
monstrous ugly Tuscan, with a great purple moustache, of which no
man could see the ends when he had his hat on--I took advantage of
its better accommodation, and in company with this gentleman (who
was very conversational and good-humoured) travelled on, until
nearly eleven o'clock at night, when the driver reported that he
couldn't think of going any farther, and we accordingly made a halt
at a place called Stradella.
The inn was a series of strange galleries surrounding a yard where
our coach, and a waggon or two, and a lot of fowls, and firewood,
were all heaped up together, higgledy-piggledy; so that you didn't
know, and couldn't have taken your oath, which was a fowl and which
was a cart. We followed a sleepy man with a flaring torch, into a
great, cold room, where there were two immensely broad beds, on
what looked like two immensely broad deal dining-tables; another
deal table of similar dimensions in the middle of the bare floor;
four windows; and two chairs. Somebody said it was my room; and I
walked up and down it, for half an hour or so, staring at the
Tuscan, the old priest, the young priest, and the Avvocato (Red-
Nose lived in the town, and had gone home), who sat upon their
beds, and stared at me in return.
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