Trip to Genoa.--The Mail.--National vanity.--Massa.--Carrara. Picturesque Road.--Romantic Villages.--Genoa.--The Strada Balbi.--The Sava Palace.--The Town, Scenery and Port.--Environs.--Splendid Prospect.--Italian humour. A sudden call drew me from Florence during the carnival, and put me unexpectedly on the road to Paris. As I went alone, I took the mail, or _malle-poste_; a species of travelling in great request for those who are in a hurry. The mail is always attended by a guard, who accompanies it from one great town to another. His duty it is to see it properly delivered by the way; and to receive contributions that offer on the route. The contractor is permitted to take one or two travellers in his carriage, which is purposely disposed so as to receive them. I took my place accordingly as far as Genoa, and we left Florence just as the sun was setting, with our lamps lighted. As we drove through the gate of Pisa, I observed a dragoon dashing along, on each side of us, and was then told that frequent robberies had rendered this escort necessary, until we got out of Lucca. There was a _contadino_ inside, a respectable farmer, who was going a post or two down the Arno, and his eye glistened with delight as he regarded the dragoons. “Those are the boys, signore,” he observed to me. “Nineteen of them put five hundred Neapolitans to flight here during the late wars.” I wonder if there be a people on the globe that does not think itself the salt of the earth! Near Salins last year, as we approached Switzerland, the postilion gravely pointed to a fort, which he affirmed had surrendered to five-and-twenty French, though garrisoned by two hundred Austrians. One can hear of such prodigies anywhere, though they are obstinately uncommon in practice, “even Providence,” as Frederick expressed it, “being usually on the side of strong battalions.” We drove through Pisa at midnight, and reached Lucca before day. On the confines of this little territory we got some beautiful scenery, the road descending and climbing _á la Suisse_, offering occasional glimpses of the Sea. Massa, the capital of the duchy of that name, was little more than a straggling village, seated on a hill side, but picturesque and Italian; and Carrara, which aspires to the title of a principality, and which is so well known for its statuary marble, is not much more. Both the small states belong to the Duchess Dowager of Modena, and at her death will come under the government of the Duke of Modena, extending his possessions, which already join them, to the sea.