At Lissa we remained a very short time, so short that I had not even time to go ashore, though I should have very much liked to visit the burial place of those brave English sailors who fell in the naval action of 1811. The business of the steamer, which seemed principally to consist in shipping a bridal party, was soon concluded, and after a very short stay we were again under full steam for Lesina, another island of the same archipelago, but much smaller and closer in to the Dalmatian coast.

The bridal party we had taken on board consisted of the bride and bridegroom, both very plain and very much, even tawdrily over-dressed in Parisian costume, and with remarkably dirty hands and otherwise unwashed appearance. A bishop with a couple of priests in attendance on his reverence, and half-a-dozen relations and friends of the newly-married couple, who seemed principally to study not to take any notice of each other but went about making themselves generally agreeable.

Rambles in Istria, Dalmatia and Montenegro — Part 46

The groom most kindly insisted on my smoking his cigars (and villainously bad they were, but had I declined them he would have been awfully offended) and drinking his maraschino, which fortunately was as good as his cigars were bad, whilst the bride, luckily for me, persistently avoided me, probably from fear of heretical contamination, and exclusively devoted her attentions to the Bishop and his priests.

Rambles in Istria, Dalmatia and Montenegro — Part 46

After a few hours steaming through the smoothest and bluest of seas, in full view of the grand mountains of Dalmatia, in due time we arrived at Lesina a little before sunset. This island is said to derive its name from being somewhat shaped like an awl, in Italian _lesina_. It is just a thin strip of land forty-two miles long, blunt at one end (which represents the handle) and sharp at the other. I doubt, however, the correctness of its etymology, and am inclined to think that its present name is more probably derived from its ancient one of "Pharos Insula," often reduced by elision into simply "Insula;" now the anagram of "Insula" is "Lusina," a word much more in harmony with the genius of the Italian language, and from Lusina to Lesina is but a shade. I think I am fortified in this etymology by the fact of at least two other instances in the Adriatic of this identical transposition of letters, and the conversion of Insula to Lusina, in the names of two islands near the Quarnero, named respectively Lussin Grande and Lussin Piccolo, which are evidently the anagram of Insula Grande and Insula Piccola.

Rambles in Istria, Dalmatia and Montenegro — Part 46