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Not far from the two Roman Catholic cemeteries is the one for Protestant burials; a peaceful well-kept garden, with many fine trees among the graves.

Our drive back to the hotel, by a good road lately made near the Antichi Ponti Rossi, took us through a large portion of the city of Naples. The people were all outside their houses; everything in Naples seems to be done in the street; trades of all kinds are carried on; women in gay-coloured, but very loosely-hanging dresses, with bright black hair and eyes, nurse their babies, and perform other motherly duties, sitting on the kerb-stones; children, some with only a kerchief tied round their waists, others absolutely naked, play about like little savages; those of a larger growth wander among the stalls in the streets, on which in little tin saucers are neatly set out parched peas, melon-seeds, dried nasturtiums, and other simple dainties, snatching a mouthful from every saucer, if they can do so unobserved, or else trying to sell from the baskets they carry the "frutta del mare," or "diavoli del mare,' as they call the queer-shaped little fish they have found amid the stones on the beach.

Passing an old house, said to have been that of Masaniello, we entered the Marina, once celebrated as the head-quarters of the Lazzaroni, a race now almost extinct amongst the hard-working Neapolitans. Its principal inhabitants at present are fishermen, who, as we passed, had just arrived from their boats, and were arranging in large open baskets, the red mullet, sardines, sword-fish, conger eels, they had caught. Not far from the row of baskets were little furnaces, over which bubbled strings of macaroni and stewed tomatas; near them stood a woman behind a gaily-painted wooden chest, bowered over with branches bearing oranges and lemons, beneath which hung an image of the Virgin; on the chest were ranged barrels of snow, glasses of powdered sugar, heaps of lemons, and large tumblers, filled and emptied rapidly by the passers-by. Behind the stalls crowds were attracted by pictures which hung in front of the minor theatres, of which there are many in this locality; while Pulcinello, in a house very much like that of our own English Punch, but in white attire, tempted with his cracked voice those whose purses were not sufficiently well filled to admit of their indulging more expensively their theatrical tastes.

Still driving on we reached the Santa Lucia, a wide open space, on the sea side of which were stalls of shell-fish of every description, beyond them shone the bright blue bay, broken at intervals by its graceful islands, and guarded by the low range of Vesuvius and her sister hills. Over it flitted many a fisher-boat, with whitewinged sails, "shooting like sudden smiles across the face of the sea;" within the range of stalls the road was filled with donkeys carrying heavy but picturesque panniers of vegetables, their owner perched in the middle of them, or drawing carts laden with sand,

flocks of sheep and goats, some of the former bearing little rush panniers, others, decorated with ribbons, drawing small carts, dogs clipped à la poodle, sedan-chairs, within which sat a mother and infant on their way to the christening, coffins carried by Capuchin friars, and followed by figures draped in white from head to foot, with eye-holes only, carriages making their way to the Toledo, men, women, and children all crowding and bustling along, and yet almost as if by miracle escaping accidents. On the other side of this roadway, a little nearer to the Chiaia, stood the houses and shops which since we saw them have been buried by the fall of a portion of the rock on which stands the Castle of St. Elmo. Passing the new gardens of the Villa Reale, which skirt the Chiaia, we enter the Toledo, and find ourselves in a stream of vehicles, fitting within each other almost like wedges. Some, carriages containing Neapolitan ladies in elegant costume, driven by shabby coachmen; others, fiacres with peasant women or greasy friars; others, again, carts drawn by miserable donkeys, and laden with furniture, their owners walking by the side, and carrying looking-glasses, vases, pictures, and other things too fragile to be trusted to the cart, all these huddle together, while their drivers shout and crack their whips, making their horses start into a gallop whenever they reach a space sufficiently large to enable them to do so, and producing a din and noise seldom if ever equalled in any other city, but rarely causing any accident to befal those who make their apparently perilous way through it. From the 24th of April to the 18th of May a general flitting takes place in Naples; every one changes his house or apartments, "tutta Napoli è in revoluzione, ai dieciotto sta finito," was the explanation given to the fact of the streets being blocked up with these carts, and the thoroughfare for a time completely stopped by the not unfrequent fall of a donkey and the consequent overturn of the piled up furniture. The Teatro San Carlo was not open at this time; at the Teatro Nuovo we saw some musical pieces, enlivened by the burlesques of Pulcinello, which, though they appeared to us somewhat coarse, elicited great applause from a very crowded audience.

Of course a visit to Pompeii followed soon upon our arrival in Naples; of the two ways of reaching it, by railway and in a carriage, the latter is decidedly to be preferred, the railway runs along the sea shore at the back of the towns, through which the carriage road is made, and the entrance from it to Pompeii is at a less interesting point than that reached in driving. Passing Portici, with its bright gardens and its royal palace, Resina is the next town; beneath this are the excavations of Herculaneum, the entrance to them is by a long flight of steps leading to a narrow dark passage which slopes down into the theatre. Carrying lighted candles, we followed our guide through a dark and dreary labyrinth of walls and buttresses, many of them rebuilt to prevent danger

from the excavations to the town above them, to an open space which he described as the orchestra; beyond this had been the stage, it is now still filled with the hardened mud which inundated and destroyed the city; in one part the impression of a comic mask is shown, but except this there is little of interest in the Herculaneum excavations, so far at least as we were able to explore them. Torre del Greco is, as our coachman described it, "tutto moderno," the walls and houses are built of the lava which in 1861 destroyed for a third time almost the whole town; the inhabitants are said to be quite undisturbed by apprehensions of future eruptions, and live, according to the description of a local guide-book, "in much security at the base of Vesuvius, who has more than once made for them a girdle of his lava and a burning mantle of his ashes!"

Torre dell' Annunziata comes next, and is only a mile from Pompeii; it is celebrated for its manufacture of maccaroni, long threads of which hang drying on frames through the whole length of the town. We entered Pompeii by the gate leading into the street of Stabiæ, and, being provided with an intelligent guide, were led from one street of unroofed houses to another, stopping here to look at ruts made in the roadway by the chariot-wheels; here at cisterns placed at the junctions of streets; here at an inscription or name still painted in fresh colours on the walls; here at ovens; there at the amphora in the wine shops, at frescoes without end, some graceful, but for the most part voluptuous and indelicate. After the houses came the temples, the forum, and the amphitheatre; but, until we reached the gate of Herculaneum, by which the street of tombs is entered, the whole recovered city put me much in mind of a place that, having been destroyed by fire, had been carefully cleared out and set to rights after the conflagration; it is difficult to realise in its present aspect that it has been buried and excavated, until passing through the Herculaneum gate, by the sentinel porch and the tombs which form the Appian way of Pompeii, the house of Diomede is reached; here, besides a graceful portico, and a room with three windows which command exquisite views of the Bay of Naples, along the coast from Castellamare to Torre dell' Annunziata, there is a staircase leading down to the cellars below the house, and in them the stone wine bottles which stand against the wall are still fixed there by the lava which overwhelmed the city. It was in these cellars, to which they had probably fled for safety, that no less than twenty skeletons were found. Portions of these and casts formed by the stream which hardened on them were removed to the Museum at Naples, and it is there that all the most interesting objects found in Pompeii and Herculaneum are now to be seen. The loaves that had not had time to rise in the ovens, some visibly stamped with the baker's name; nets with which butterflies were

caught, some unfinished with needles hanging to them; eggs, fruit, seeds, colours, gems without number, purses still holding coins, besides statues, bronzes, mosaics, and frescoes-all, with very few exceptions, have been taken there. The fontana nuova, one of the latest discoveries, a mosaic of shell-work in a marvellous state of freshness and perfection, and the remains of three bodies found imbedded in scoriæ, without doubt the most interesting relics the place contains, are still left in Pompeii. These bodies look like casts of grey plaster; they consist of two women and a man-the expression still left on their faces and the position in which they lie tell the sad story of their death agony. The younger of the women evidently struggled for life, one hand shades the face, while the other is clenched tightly, and her feet are apart, as if she had fallen while running. The other woman, on whose fingers are still seen the marks of her rings, has yielded to the inevitable death, and has a calm, resigned expression about her; while the man, a figure of fine and strong proportions, has grappled with death before it conquered him; his arms are extended, and his feet, cased in heavy sandals, look as if they had carried him well till the tide of the burning lava overwhelmed him. Other visits to Pompeii made us better acquainted with its gloomy streets of small houses, in which now the only signs of life are the lizards that sparkle as they creep on the walls and the ferns which grow in rich luxuriance amid the ruins.

After Pompeii, the next necessary trip from Naples is to the top of Vesuvius. A carriage took us as far as Resina; here we hired the ponies and guides who were to conduct us the rest of the way. For some distance out of Resina the road ran along lanes bordered on either side by vineyards and orchards of mulberry-trees, figs, lemons, and pomegranates, with large gardens of the tobacco plant; then began the road made across the fields of lava with which different eruptions of Vesuvius have covered many miles in its neighbourhood. The ponies carefully picked their way along the narrow path between coils of dark-brown calcareous substance that lay curled in every imaginable shape around us; now a sea of black waves, now ropes, then huge serpents, in some places fancy traced human bodies cased in lava-all was desolation and silence. About midway between Resina and the Hermitage, a small black wooden cross marks the spot where, on the seventh Tuesday after Easter, the people of Resina assemble, with their priests, to pray for preservation from the ravages of Vesuvius. Passing the Hermitage-an inn where refreshments, with the Lachryma Christi wine, grown in the vineyards below, may be obtained-our ponies carried us to the Atrio del Cavallo at the base of the cone. Here the foot mounting begins; whatever may be its difficulty or danger during a time of eruption, there is little of either when the

mountain is in repose; strong boots, short petticoats, good lungs, and patience are all that are required.

"Chi va piano, va sano e lontano," were the encouraging words of the guide as he helped me to step over the huge stones of broken lava that lie at intervals imbedded in the loose scoriæ, or waited while I stopped to take breath, and to look upon the splendid views that broke upon us at every step of our hour's ascent. To our left stretched the dark sides of the Somma, from the now exhausted crater of which issued the eruption which destroyed the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii; on the other side lay the Campagna, the bay and city of Naples, the coast of the Mediterranean, with its towns, and its own blue expanse beyond. Towards the summit, the path became more rough, and from several fissures a hot vapour escaped; further on the surface of the ground became too hot to touch, the smell of sulphur was very strong, and eggs were rapidly boiled in the crevices.

At length we reached the lip of the crater, and looking down we saw below a floor encrusted with what looked like moss shaded in most delicate gradations, from the palest straw-colour to the darkest, richest green. From this beautiful carpet of sulphur came jets of light filmy smoke, which rose five or six feet from the surface; but this was the nearest approach to an eruption that Vesuvius now displayed.

We were trying to follow the finger of our guide as he pointed to a white spot in the distance below, which, he said, was Pompeii, when, as it were, a deep blue curtain rose from the horizon; gradually it covered the sunny landscape beneath, shutting out one by one the objects that had attracted us by their loveliness, until, as it reached us, it fell in heavy showers of rain and hail, making the otherwise easy descent of Vesuvius a walk of much discomfort, inasmuch as the loose ashes into which at every downward step one sinks nearly to one's knees, speedily became saturated with the rain, and rendered the state of one's stockings and legs anything but pleasant.

Orders of entrance are easily obtained, and the train runs in an hour from Naples to Caserta, where, opposite to the station, is a palace, with a magnificent marble staircase, vast and richly adorned rooms, a theatre, and a chapel lavishly decorated with marbles, gems, and gold. The grounds in which it stands are, however, more interesting than the palace itself. Amid the shrubs on the lawns, pheasants, partridges, and other birds run about with the tameness of farmyard poultry; flowers grow in luxuriance; but the fountains and cascades are the chief features of the gardens. The principal one plays over figures in white marble, representing the story of Diana and Acteon; behind this, in deep rocky basins, are some fat old trout, which remind one of the

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