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"Compiled From Her Letters and Journals by Her Son Charles Edward Stowe"

The idea of any feeling of compassion
for an animal is so foreign to a Neapolitan's thoughts that they
supposed it must be some want of courage on our part. When, once in a
while, the old habit so prevailed that the boy felt that he must
strike the donkey, and when I forbade him, he would say, 'Courage,
signora, courage.'
"Time would fail me to tell the whole of our adventures in Southern
Italy. We left it with regret, and I will tell you some time by word
of mouth what else we saw.
"We went by water from Naples to Leghorn, and were gloriously seasick,
all of us. From Leghorn we went to Florence, where we abode two weeks
nearly. Two days ago we left Florence and started for Venice, stopping
one day and two nights _en route_ at Bologna, Here we saw the
great university, now used as a library, the walls of which are
literally covered with the emblazoned names and coats of arms of
distinguished men who were educated there.
"_Venice_. The great trouble of traveling in Europe, or indeed of
traveling anywhere, is that you can never _catch_ romance. No
sooner are you in any place than being there seems the most natural,
matter-of-fact occurrence in the world. Nothing looks foreign or
strange to you. You take your tea and your dinner, eat, drink, and
sleep as aforetime, and scarcely realize where you are or what you are
seeing. But Venice is an exception to this state of things; it is all
romance from beginning to end, and never ceases to seem strange and
picturesque.


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