196 
we descended to Cannes, a little sea-port close to 
the water’s edge. 
16th. A fine bright and rather frosty morning. 
Our road lay by the sea-side, through the most 
beautiful shrubberies of myrtle, with its blue berries 
and some flowers; fine heaths, which with us are 
kept in greenhouses; most stupendous clusters of 
the great aloes (improperly called American), and 
other fine plants. We passed by Antibes, had a 
fine view of Nice and its bay, and after fording the 
Var (a very unpleasant business), with the Duchess 
dowager of Leinster and her train, we arrived at 
Nice. This town is finely built, and well secured 
from the cold winds. It is full of our country peo- 
ple, and indeed exactly in the style of an English 
watering-place. The natives fawn upon, laugh at, 
and cheat the strangers, who come here from all 
parts of England, Scotland, and Ireland, to get rid 
of their consumptions and their money. Here I 
first learned with great concern the death of Dr. 
Hope. I rejoice, however, in having paid him the 
compliment I did, and particularly in having writ- 
ten a letter, which I sent with the dedication copy 
of my book, and which seemed to give him parti- 
cular pleasure. 
The road from Nice to Genoa is bad beyond de- 
scription, being for the most part along a path on 
the brink of precipices hanging over the sea, and 
so rocky and steep that every comparison of flights 
of broken steps, Norwich pavement, &c., &c., is very 
insufficient to give an idea of it: but the mules 
