Owing to the absence of rivers, the sterility of the soil, and the steep escarpments, this portion of the Mediterranean coast region contrasts strikingly with other parts of temperate Europe. Having reached the summit of the mountains beyond the magnificent chestnut forests at the head-streams of the Ellero, the Tanaro, and the Bormida, we look down upon a scene almost African in its character. Scarcely a blade of grass is to be seen between Nice and Spezia, and only the grass-plots, kept up at great expense in some pleasure-gardens, remind us that Piemont and {233} Lombardy are near at hand. Pines and brambles would have remained the only verdure in these Ligurian valleys and ravines if it were not for the transformation wrought by gardeners and agriculturists. Strange to say, trees do not ascend to the same height on the slopes of the Apennines as in the Alps, though the mean temperature is far higher, and at an altitude at which the beech still attains noble proportions in Switzerland we find it here stunted in growth. Larches are hardly ever seen. The sea is as sterile as the land. There are neither shallows, islands, nor seaweeds affording shelter to fish. The cliffs descend precipitously into the sea, and the narrow strips of beach, extending from promontory to promontory, consist only of sand without the admixture of a single shell. The Genoese fishermen, therefore, resort to distant coasts, those of the “Ponente,” or west, going to Sicily, whilst those of Camogli, on the Riviera di Levanto, visit the coasts of Tuscany. This sterility of land and sea accounts for the large number of Genoese met with in other parts of the world.