Soon after breakfast, a large boat, filled with men
in blue jackets, scarlet caps, and various colored under-clothes,
bound ashore on liberty, left the Italian ship, and passed under our
stern; the men singing beautiful Italian boatsongs, all the way, in
fine, full chorus. Among the songs I recognized the favorite "O
Pescator dell' onda." It brought back to my mind pianofortes,
drawing-rooms, young ladies singing, and a thousand other things which
as little befitted me, in my situation, to be thinking upon. Supposing
that the whole day would be too long a time to spend ashore, as
there was no place to which we could take a ride, we remained
quietly on board until after dinner. We were then pulled ashore in the
stern of the boat, and, with orders to be on the beach at sundown,
we took our way for the town. There, everything wore the appearance of
a holyday. The people were all dressed in their best; the men riding
about on horseback among the houses, and the women sitting on
carpets before the doors. Under the piazza of a "pulperia," two men
were seated, decked out with knots of ribbons and bouquets, and
playing the violin and the Spanish guitar.
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