Memoirs of John Adams Dix; comp. by his son, Morgan Dix.

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MEMOIRS OF JOHN ADAMS DIX.

The following spring I resigned my position at St. Mark's
Church, Philadelphia, and went abroad, to join the rest of
our family in Italy. 1 took passage on the steamship Arctic,
Captain Luce, another of the ill-fated Collins line, and destined to a more terrible destruction than the Humnboldt, her
sister ship. It was my intention to have returned to the
United States in the autumn, in the same vessel, but a change
of plans saved me from being involved in the horrible calamity so well remembered, and, perhaps, from perishing with
the rest. Late in the month of May I met my people at
Leghorn; we went thence to the Bagni di Lucca, where we
passed the summer. The region is one of the most beautiful
that can be imagined; the hills are high, and covered with a
magnificent foliage of chestnuts, oaks, and other forest trees.
The Serchio winds its way among them, a mere rivulet in the
dry season, but in the spring and winter a deep, strong flood.
There were three hotels at the Bagni, two on this side of the
river, and the third just opposite-the "Europe," at which
we stayed, the "Cardinali," and the "Nicolai." The proprietor of these three houses was an ex-officer of Napoleon's
army; he conducted his little realm with a military precision
which was not only admirable but somewhat amusing. Five
minutes before the dinner-hour mine host appeared at the
front-door of the " Europe," his hand on a bell-rope, and his
eye on the front-doors of the other two hotels; four minutes
before the dinner-hour a sub-lieutenant (as it were) appeared
in the door of the " Cardinali," and a similar officer at that of
the "Nicolai," each with his hand on a bell-rope, and each
fixing his eyes on the chief. Precisely at the first stroke of
four the three bell-ropes were jerked, and a tremendous clatter awoke the echoes up and down. Everything else was
managed in the same formal and exact way, the bustling
Frenchman all the while beaming with good-humor, swelling
with importance, and directing operations as if a division of
the grande armee were under his command.
The Baths of Lucca were, and I believe are still, a favorite