"Note, my love," she said, as we began to penetrate the frontier country, "that majestic blue summit on the horizon to the left"-- obliteration, and another tunnel! "_Don't_ miss that jagged line of snows just beyond the back of poppa's head, dear one.

Quick! they are melting away!"-- but the next tunnel was quicker.

"Put down that the dazzling purity of these lovely peaks must be realised, for it cannot be"-- darkness, and the blight of another tunnel.

It was very hard on momma's imagination, and she finally accepted the Senator's warning that it would be thrown completely out of gear if she went on, and abandoned the attempt to form complete sentences between tunnels.

It was much simpler to exclaim "Splendid!" or "Glorious!" which one could generally do without being interrupted.
We were not prepared to enjoy anything when we arrived at Genoa, but there was Christopher Columbus in bronze, just outside the station in a little place by himself, and we felt bound to give him our attention before we went any further.