The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 107, September, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 107, September, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
But one more torrent to cross,--where the foremost coach had nearly been
overset, and where the occupants of the hindmost one, profiting by
example, got out and walked over the footbridge, in time to behold the
owner of the British accent wave his hat triumphantly from the _coupe_
with a hearty (English) "Huzza!" as the vehicle recovered, by a violent
lurch to the left, from an equally violent one to the right, issuing
scathless from the last flood that lay in the way,--and then both
diligences began at a leisurely pace to crawl up a long ascent of road,
bordered on each side by olive-grounds;--until the view opened to a
fine stretch of prospect, now colored and vivified by a glance of the
afternoon sun,--the diminutive peninsular kingdom of Monaco, lying down
in the very sea, bright, and green, and fairy-like; the bold barren crag
of the Turbia rock frowning sternly in front, with its antique Roman
tower and modern Italian church; the rocky heights above to the right,
with their foreground of olive-trees, vine-trellises, and orange-groves,
interspersed with country-houses; while through all wound the
ever-climbing road, a white thread in the distance, with the telegraphic
poles, dwindled to pin-like dimensions, indicating its numberless turns
and bends.
As the sun sank over the far western lines of the Estrelle Mountains,
and the sky faded into grayish purple, succeeded by an ever-deepening
suffusion of black, unpierced by a single star, the high reach of road
above Villafranca Bay was passed; and, on our turning the corner of the
last intervening upland, full in view came the many lights of Nice, with
its castled rock, its minarets and cupolas, its stretch of sea, its look
of sheltered repose;--all most welcome to sight, after our sensational
journey on the Cornice Road in a great rain.
INCIDENTS OF THE PORTLAND FIRE.
Never had Portland looked more beautiful than when the sunrise-gun
boomed across the waters, announcing the ninetieth anniversary of our
independence. The sun, which on another day should look down on the
city's desolation, rose unclouded over the houses, that stood forth from
the foliage of the embowering elms, or nestled in their shadow; over the
quaintness of the old-fashioned churches and the beauty of the more
modern temples; over the stately public edifices, and the streets
everywhere decked with flags and thronged with crowds of happy,
well-dressed people. Of course, the popular satisfaction expressed
itself in the report of pistols, guns, and fire-crackers; and all
through the day the usual amusements went on, and in the afternoon
almost everybody was on the street.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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