Saturday, November 4th 1854 ~ Milan

Hotel de Ville ~ We breakfasted this morning at Como and after much discussion we decided to make an excursion on the lake; so we took the little steamer at eight o’clock for Bellaggio arriving there after a delightful sail of an hour and a half. The lake is long and narrow, bounded by quite high hills on either hand, along the base of which are beautiful Italian villas in great profusion, with their terraced gardens still clothed in summer verdure. These villas are generally white square houses, having an air of wealth and elegance. The houses at Longwood resemble them very much. We have struck up an acquaintance with an English family aboard, a father, mother and grown up son, bu speedily found them, like all the other specimens of their race that we have met, reserved, uncommunicative, and purse-proud. They were talking continuously about their courier, their servants from England etc. etc. We left our shawls etc. at a hotel in the village and ascended a hill on which is placed the Villa Serbilloni, from the garden of which we obtained some magnificent views of the lake and surrounding country. Bellaggio is on a spur of land running into the lake so that here we had water on both sides, indeed all sides but one. This garden is a succession of terraces, which shelter almost tropical fruits and flowers. Here again we met the English party, the lady riding in a sedan chair carried by two men. We dined at Bellaggio and found the names of J.V.C. Smith {mayor of Boston} and party on the books. Mrs. Smith had written a warm commendation of the hotel, and had added a note in which she says that after having received the bill she found herself obliged take back all her previously expressed praise!! We left at two for Como again, and had to row off to the steamer in a little boat. There was considerable wind and the ladies of the party found a sad pleasure in looking over the side of the little boat! Arrived at Como we had just time to get our passport and baggage in order to take the six o’clock train for Milan. At the depot no one spoke a word of French or German and I was obliged to use signs. It is very disagreeable. The money is still francs (called by another name) and I know the Italian numbers, still it is hard work. The cars are good and the comfort of passengers well attended to. As we crossed the boundary line between Switzerland and Italy (the Alps), the language, manners, customs, as well as climate seemed to change in a moment. Our baggage was again examined on entering this city. Officials are plenty and very strict, but civil.