Will you ever forget the great wave that drenched the officer as he stood at the bottom of the ladder trying to steady the smaller boat that I might leap in, and, after we were pushed off, the feeling of helplessness at tossing on that mighty sea so far from shore? How the old oarsman stopped in the roughest part, demanding his fare, and after you had paid him, insisted, like Oliver Twist, on more! How you shook your fist at him, balancing yourself in that frail craft, and cried, "Allez!" and how he allezed before that fist!
How the handsome young Ischian had selected me as his signorina's guest! How his frank eye inspired confidence, and I let him hand me into the wee phaeton; and how we started up the mountain, wondering all the while! How he seemed to remember something, stopped the pony bedecked with ribbons and feathers, and gave me a note which proved my confidence was not misplaced and that he was our hostess's coachman! How he showed us the old castle from each vantage point, proud to be serving the beautiful signorina, and bubbling over with joy at our evident admiration!
All this is changed. The old castle still stands out, white and clear cut, with the blue Mediterranean beating on three of its sides, but the sunshine has flown.
No smiling mistress in silken robes, no Roman servants, no coachman of polished bronze were here to welcome me now. The great hall with its wealth of marble remains, but the objets d'art brought from every corner of the globe are gone, and all the warmth of heart that comes from loving hospitality is missing. My hostess of former years has been wooed away.
Let not my musing, however, deter any one from coming to Ischia. Situated at the northern extremity of the Bay of Naples, as Capri is at its southern extremity, it is at once unique and romantic.
ON SHIPBOARD:
We set sail from Marseilles one evening as the autumn sun was sinking behind the distant Alps. Cruising along the Riviera and the rugged coast of Corsica, on the second morning we were close to Italy's shore with the environs of Naples in the misty background.
We remained in port three days, living on the ship the while. A drive to Posilipo, the never-ending panorama of Neapolitan life, and the day at Ischia, about which I told you in my last letter, filled the time, and at midnight of the third day we weighed anchor for home.