"Note,
my love," she said, as we began to penetrate the frontier country, "that
majestic blue summit on the horizon to the left"--obliteration, and
another tunnel! "_Don't_ miss that jagged line of snows just beyond the
back of poppa's head, dear one. Quick! they are melting away!"--but the
next tunnel was quicker. "Put down that the dazzling purity of these
lovely peaks must be realised, for it cannot be"--darkness, and the
blight of another tunnel. It was very hard on momma's imagination, and
she finally accepted the Senator's warning that it would be thrown
completely out of gear if she went on, and abandoned the attempt to form
complete sentences between tunnels. It was much simpler to exclaim
"Splendid!" or "Glorious!" which one could generally do without being
interrupted.
We were not prepared to enjoy anything when we arrived at Genoa, but
there was Christopher Columbus in bronze, just outside the station in a
little place by himself, and we felt bound to give him our attention
before we went any further. He was patting America on the head, both of
them life size, and carrying on that historical argument with his
sailors in bas-relief below; and he looked a very fine character.
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