Genoa does not afford much scope or variety for those who love riding, but where there was a horse, and a side-saddle to put on it, my sister and I could not be kept from mounting, and by degrees most of the Genoese gentlemen whom we met in society joined our riding parties, until our cavalcade lengthened out to enormous proportions, and many were the pleasant gallops we had along the coast. Alas! that most of those gay cavaliers have long since been numbered with the dead. One in particular I recall with sincere affection. He was the Chevalier Pietro de Boyl, brother of the Marchese of the same name. He was a Sardinian by birth, and at this time a Captain in the Engineers. He was remarkable for his extreme beauty and high courage, which he proved afterwards by distinguishing himself greatly as A.D.C. to King Charles Albert in several battles. He was subsequently Governor of his native island of Sardinia, but, at the time of which I am speaking, he was merely a young officer, one of my favourite partners, and a constant visitor at our house. He sang well to the guitar, and his other charms were enhanced in my eyes by his devotion to _cara miladi_, as he alway called my dear mother. It was during our sojourn at Genoa that King William IV. bestowed on my father the Guelphic and Hanoverian Order, which his Majesty was very fond of dispensing. When the news of the decoration reached Genoa, we received visits of congratulation from all our friends, and at the same time letters and notes offering sympathy to my mother upon what was considered a very questionable elevation. How grieved I was when the time came to leave beautiful Genoa! The Carnival had been so enjoyable, the fun so “fast and furious,” and the opera season so delightful. We had been almost every night to the theatre, having a box placed at our disposal by one or other of our Genoese friends. Visits were paid from one box to another by all the gentlemen of our acquaintance, and the society thus enjoyed was on an easy and agreeable footing. The _prima donna_ at the time I am speaking of was, strange as it may appear, a German by birth, and Madame Ungher was, in my opinion, the finest actress I have ever seen, scarcely excepting Rachel or Ristori. She was not remarkable for beauty, but had a noble presence, was graceful in her movements, and her singing was replete with expression, dignity and pathos. In the opera of the _Pirata_, I shall never forget the scene in which she implores her child to intercede with his father in her behalf. I was forcibly reminded of this incident the other day, in witnessing Miss Mary Anderson’s beautiful impersonation of Hermione in the _Winter’s Tale_, and the touching dialogue between her and the little Prince, when she showed the same tenderness, the same winning grace, but enhanced by an extreme loveliness with which Madame Ungher was not endowed. [Sidenote: “BALLETS D’ACTION”]