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4.4
62 reviewshere in the heat! I should like to have the use of his whip
for a few minutes and try its effect upon his shoulders!"
Such was the impatient exclamation of Horace Cleveland, as
for the third time he thrust his head out of the carriage
window.
"I wish that we had never come to Calabria at all!"
sighed his mother. Horace was resuming his lounging
position in the carriage, after hurling a few Italian words ofabuse at the driver, as she added, "It was a nonsensical
whim of yours, Horace, to bring us into this wild land, when
we might have remained in comfort at Naples, with every
convenience around us, such as my weak health so much
requires."
"Convenience!" repeated Horace contemptuously.
"Would you compare the luxuries of Naples, its drives, its
bouquets, its ices, its idle amusements, with the glorious
scenery of a land like this? Look what a splendid mountain
rises there, all clothed to the very summit with myrtle,
aloes, and cactus, where here and there stands a tall palm,
like the king of the forest, overlooking the rest. And see
what an expanse—what an ocean of olives stretches
yonder!"
"I do not admire the olive, with its rugged stem and dull
dingy leaves," observed Mrs. Cleveland.
"Not when the breeze ruffles those leaves, and shows
their silver linings? Look there now,—how beautiful they
appear under the brightness of an Italian sky!"
"I am too weary to admire anything," said Mrs.
Cleveland with a yawn, "and it seems as if we were never to
reach the inn at Staiti. The heat is almost suffocating."
"I say," halloed Horace to the driver, "how long shall we
be in arriving at Staiti?"
The Italian shrugged his shoulders, and without taking
the trouble to turn round made reply, "We shall not be there
till twenty-four o'clock, signore."
"Twenty-four o'clock!" exclaimed Horace; not surprised,
however, by the expression, as the reader may possibly be,
as he was familiar with the Italian mode of reckoning the
