In the following year we visited some additional palaces,—viz., first, the Palazzo Durazzo on the Via Balbi, a magnificent house with a much–noted staircase. Notwithstanding the family were then residing in this palace, we were shown through about a dozen rooms, in which the hangings were of superb elegance, and the walls richly adorned with pictures. Thence we went to the Palazzo Balbi, a fine mansion, but not equal to the Durazzo; and thence to the Palazzo Reale, one of those royal palaces which the King of Italy seldom visits, but which he nevertheless appears compelled to maintain. The rooms are beautiful, the queen’s bedroom particularly rich and dazzling. The facilities afforded for seeing these palaces, which no one going to Genoa should, if possible, omit to visit, are very commendable. A fee of 1 franc to the attendant is all that there, as elsewhere in Italy, is expected. * * * * * The churches of Genoa are, like all Italian churches, very dark and very dirty—purposely ill–lighted, no doubt, to produce a dim religious light, and dirty because it is part of an Italian’s religion in church to spit upon the floor and otherwise to consider that cleanliness is next to ungodliness. The Cathedral of San Lorenzo and the neighbouring Jesuit Church of San Ambrogio are large buildings, especially the cathedral, and possess fine altars, surmounted by show pictures, and otherwise are richly adorned. The Church of San Annunciata, on the way to the railway station, is profusely gilded. * * * * * In the afternoon we walked to the Aqua Sola, a public park, which is evidently a place of resort of the Genoese gentry. Being a winter day, there were not many going about; but we saw a number of handsome equipages with Italian horses, their long flowing tails touching the ground. A very curious kind of curricle, such as we saw nowhere else, was constructed with high wheels, and seated, like a country mail cart, for one person only. This was drawn by one horse at full speed, and between two of them a race was run round and round the park. We had seen a good many of the women walking about town, having a mantilla or veil depending from the head—a graceful Genoese fashion, although one would hardly think it could afford much protection from either cold or heat. But here, for the first time, we saw some of the grand Italian nurses, who are generally dressed in a most peculiar and magnificent attire, their hair fantastically decked with large pins, very gorgeous to behold. There were evident degrees of magnificence, dependent, I suppose, to some extent upon the condition of the family in whose service the nurses were. The children also in their charge were attired in costumes more or less brilliant and rich, everything in Genoa being, I presume, from a palace to a hair–pin, necessarily ‘superb.’ * * * * *