that the bustling shopman would appear behind his counter to receive us. The signs of the different tradesmen hung over their doors; and so similar were they to those of modern times, that had we not known we were at Pompeii we might have fancied ourselves in some deserted suburb of Naples itself. One of these insignia particularly attracted my attention. It was the sign of The Chequers," the same in size and in form as that by which every dram-shop in London is now, and has for long, been designated. We passed through the doorway, the threshold of which was much worn, and showed that in its time it had been a place of frequent resort. Around the walls were ranged the shelves on which the flasks of liquor had stood, and up the centre of the area ran the counter, covered like those of the "gin palaces" in the British metropolis with a slab of marble. Traces of spilled liquor which had gathered round the foot of the over filled glass, or which some trembling hand had shaken from the cup in conveying it to the lips, were still visible; and perhaps the tidy hand of the priestess of the place was employed in wiping away those stains when she was overtaken by the dismal shower of ashes, and " death, like a statuary, modelled his victim." Further on were the barracks of the military, the walls covered with rude drawings and ill written names, which the hands of the soldiers had traced in their idle hours. In one street was the baker's shop, in another the butcher's stall; and on the exterior walls of the public edifices were placarded bills announcing the performance that might be witnessed at the theatre in the evening, or intimating that a gladiatorial exhibition would be held at the amphitheatre on the morrow. Every thing around us, indeed, tended to realise the scene, and to annihilate, as it were, the two thousand years that had elapsed since the bill-sticker placarded his bills, and the dram-drinker quaffed his liquor.

"Here," I remarked to my companions, "we have an apt practical illustration of the maxim, that all things, save man are mutable. He is still the same; he eats, drinks, sleeps, goes to the play, and frequents the exhibition just as he did twenty centuries ago."

while in this city of the dead, I think we may extend the maxim from man to his dwelling place, and say that all things have suffered change, save man and Pompeii.

66

"I recollect," continued Rodolphe, a beautiful illustration of this, which we owe, I think, to my countryman Charles Nodier. Suppose that a contemporary of Augustus were to arise from the tomb and revisit his former dwelling place, with what wonder would he gaze around him. Place of my earthly habitation,' he would exclaim, 'all hail. To thee alone of all the cities on earth has it been granted to defy the destroying hand of time, and to the minutest objects of my affections has the immunity been extended! Here is my couch, there my favourite author. My paintings are still fresh as when the hand of the artist spread the colours on the wall. Come, let us perambulate the town; let us visit the theatre. recognise the very spot where I joined for the first time in the plaudits that hailed the splendid scenes of Terence and Euripides !'"

I

It has been observed by the talented and classical Chateaubriand, in speaking of Pompeii, and while wandering through its ruins I was forcibly struck by the justice of the remark, that it is matter of regret that every thing was not left here exactly as it was found. Instead of removing the furniture, the implements of trade, the statues and other curiosities to the museum at Portici, they should be allowed to remain in the very spots where they were discovered. Doors, windows, floors and roofs should have been carefully restored to the buildings, in order to preserve those precious relics, and prevent the paintings on the pannels from being defaced. The city walls should have been rebuilt, the gates repaired, a guard of soldiers stationed within the barracks, and buildings erected for the residence of overseers and inspectors. What an additional pleasure would the traveller have derived had he found the rooms

of the houses filled with their ancient furniture, the kitchens with all their implements of cookery, the cellars with their amphora of wine, the lady's toilet with all its utensils and ornaments of dress exactly in the same condition as when they were last used

by the Roman fair. As it is, Pompeii is the most attractive ruin in Italy. Had the course recommended by Chateaubriand been adopted, it would have been the most wonderful museum in the world.

On the Vesuvian side of Naples we had much to see and much to admire. We visited the Torre del Greco, SO rich in antiquarian associations, and skirted round the base of the mountain, where the citron, and orange, and myrtle added fragrance to the air, and the vine wove its fantastic but graceful tracery over our heads; we wandered up the banks of the romantic Sarno, and extended our excursions far across the Campo Felice, almost to the very foot of the Appenines. But it was from the parties we made in the direction of Pozzuoli, the country which Homer and Virgil have sung, and where the tomb of the latter is still exhibited, that I derived the greatest gratification. With what a crowd of mingled feelings did I first gaze on the scene that presented itself when our boat bore us up into the bay of Baia! What recollections did the prospect of this once most magnificent of cities, and still more beautiful of ruins recall! The country-house of Nero-the villa of Cæsar-the temples of Venus, and Mercury, and Dianathe Camere di Venere, where were celebrated the most secret and revolt ing of mysteries - the magnificent baths-the luxurious domiciles of Marius and Hortensius, and the splendid abode of Lucullus, where the monster Tiberius gave up his detested life; all in succession brought to mind the most interesting events of Roman story, and tended to realize our ideas of Roman splendor. Here it was that "the mighty men" of Rome, her emperors, her generals, her senators, retired from the bustle of war and the intrigues of politics, and gave themselves up to the indulgence of every prodigal pleasure which accumulated wealth and unbounded power could purchase. Situated in the most delightful climate in the world, and surrounded by a variety of the most enchanting landscapes, this was the delicious retreat for which the goddess of love, with all her licentious train, deserted the shores of the golden Paphos. Nothing that could minister to pleasure or pamper luxury was wanting here; the beauti

ful and the gay of Rome crowded to the favourite retreat, and the very sea gave up its bed to make way for the stupendous piles of their palaces. Deep beneath the surface of the pellucid waters may still be seen the pavements of their streets, the crumbling walls of their houses, and the broken fragments of their pillars.

Let imagination but rebuild those sumptuous structures, repair those splendid baths, and restore to their original splendor those magnificent theatres, and fill them with all the beauty and nobility of Rome; let it but convert those miserable fishingboats that ply across the bay, into gay, gilded barges, with sails of purple, and masts festooned with wreaths of flowers; let it supply the soft strains of enchanting music, and fill the streets with the pompous processions of the priests of Diana, and scatter on the sandy beach, beneath tali promontories embowered in foliage, and crowned by the pillars and porticos of graceful temples, a few dancing groups of the gay votaries of pleasure, and some idea may be formed of what Baia was in the days of its grandeur, ere it was devastated by the fire and sword of Theoderic, and ere the ocean had asserted its right to its ancient bed.

Onward we passed; and scarcely had we left the splendid ruins of Baiæ behind, when new objects of interest presented themselves. We lingered on the rocky margin of Avernus, and recalled all the horrors of the Homeric machinery; we followed Æneas into the cave of the Cumaan Sybil; we traced the footsteps of Ulysses, and traversing the delicious Elysian Fields, beneath a canopy of tall mulberries and vine-supporting poplars, arrived at the banks of the Mare Morto. With what an inimitable effect of contrast has the imagination of the poets here placed, within little more than an hundred paces of each other, the abodes of the blest and the regions of the damned. On one side we could see the place where the threeheaded Cerberus kept his watch, and where the dissolute Ixion whirled round with the revolutions of his inexorable wheel. Up the steep declivity of the opposing hill the ever-labouring Sisyphus rolled his stone; immersed in the waters of the lake beneath us, stood the unfortunate Tantalus, the

fluid still shrinking from his parched and longing lips, and chained to a rock upon its margin, which we thought we could almost identify, lay the miserable Tityus, with never-dying vultures gnawing at his heart. On the other side lay before us the spot where the shades of the blest were said to enjoy an endless felicity, wandering through flower-enamelled valleys and by the side of murmuring brooks, amid the never-ceasing strains of the most delicious harmony.

Farther on, we ascended the Promontory of Miseno, and enjoyed another enchanting view of the bay of Naples, with its lovely coast and vinematuring islands; while beneath us lay the great Roman Pont of Tyrrhene sea, where the elder Pliny commanded the fleet at the time of the first eruption of Vesuvius. From the spot where we stood, we could trace the progress of that great man as he stretched across the bay to Stabiæ, where he was doomed to remain a victim to his daring attempt to pry into the mysteries of nature.

The whole of this enchanting district indeed, whether considered separately as presenting a variety of the most magnificent landscapes, or taken in connexion with the numerous associations to which it gives rise, forms one of the most delightful spots to which the travaller can resort. I never recall the excursions I made there, without experiencing the most pleasing reminiscences; I may say with truth, meminisse juvabit.

But I will not detain the reader by recounting all the varied thoughts and feelings which crowded upon me on visiting the delightful neighbourhood, and which are interesting perhaps only to myself. If he have patience to accompany me in a pedestrian excursion which I made to Postum, I promise to trouble him no more with the lovely environs of Naples.

The weather was peculiarly propitious for an excursion of the description I contemplated; and having prevailed on two of my shipmates to join me, we packed up a few necessaries, such as we could carry without inconvenience, and fixed a day for starting on our trip. Many kind friends we had, who told us of the dangers we were likely to encounter from the nu

merous banditti who infested the mountains; and as we did not think it prudent altogether to reject the cautions we received, we armed ourselves as completely as our means would admit. Each of us packed up a supply of powder and bullets in his knapsack : one of my companions carried a double-barrelled gun-I provided myself with a brace of Mortimer's pistols; and though the remaining middy was furnished with nothing but a huge stick, it required but a slight glance at the massive proportions and herculean arm of the youth, to be satisfied that this weapon would be of no small service should we be unfortunate enough to come to close quarters. It is true, that so slenderly appointed, we could not expect to cope with the ferocious bands of marauders of whose daring and numbers we had heard so much; but with the thoughtless ardour of young men, who laugh at difficulties and court danger for herself, we imagined that we would at least be enabled to make a formidable stand, and acquit ourselves in a way that would bring no discredit on the service.

As we were all of us already well acquainted with the country that extends between Naples and the banks of the Sarno, we hired a boat to convey us at once across the bay to Castel-à-mare, from whence we purposed to pass the beautiful chain of the Sorrentine Mountains to Amalfi.

I

It was about three o'clock on the morning of the day appointed that we left the ship, and embarking in our little Neapolitan skiff, commenced our voyage. We had proceeded, I should think, about as far as the centre of the bay, when, in a pure Italian sky, unobscured by a single rack of vapour, the glorious sun arose. Never did I witness so magnificent a spectacle. have seen the rise of the sun in many different quarters of the globe, both upon the shore and in the wide expanse of the ocean, when not a speck of land was in view; but nowhere was the sight so magnificent as here. The resplendent disc emerged at once from its ocean-bed, preceded by no "pale gradation," ushered in by no grey twilight dawn. In an instant Capri, Ischia, Procida, the summits of Posilipo and Monte Nuovo, the spires and

cupolas of Naples, the steep sides of Vesuvius, the beetling promontory of Sorrento, and the distant peaks of the Apennines, were in a blaze of light. A long pathway, as it were, of burnished gold stretched across the waters of the bay, over whose placid surface numerous fishing-boats were plying on the business of their traffic, their masts and sails fringed with the light of the glorious illumination, and the spray from their oars glittering like scattered gems in the sunbeams. The gentle land-breeze had not yet died away, and the slightly rippled water sparkled in the fresh blush of the morning: life and animation had succeeded to the dull sleep of night-the fishermen assembled on the quays of the little towns scattered along the beach, or stretching out in their tiny cobbles, spread their nets in the bay, while the tuneful notes of their chorus-song floated softly across the silent waters. Glancing in the rays of the sun, the whitewalled Portici lay before us. The hour, the place, the surrounding scenery, all tended to recall the fate of the rebel Masaniello; and I could almost fancy I saw his tall, manly form conspicuous amid the group of attendant fishermen, his "sister dear" clinging to the skirts of his garment, and listening in silent transport while his deep-toned voice took the lead in that magnificent, and, to the hour, so appropriate chorus

"Behold how brightly beams the morning."

At length the land-breeze died away, and the sea-breeze setting in somewhat more strongly than usual, our bargemen had no occasion to importune St. Antoine for wind. From our position, however, we could afford to keep two points away, and we landed safely at Castel-à-mare in good time for an early breakfast.

At the foot of a picturesque hill, where may still be traced the ruins of Stabiæ, and whose summit is now occupied by a beautiful regal villa, encircled by an amphitheatre of the most delightful landscapes, and washed by the waters of the Bay of Naples, stands the lovely Castel-à-mare. Reader! have you ever visited this enchanting place? If not, and you are willing to be guided by the advice of an humble midshipman, lose not a moment in re

pairing thither. From no description can you ever hope to obtain the slightest idea of its beauties; it may be said to be unique in loveliness, and whoever attempts to transfer its varied features even to the canvass, will find that he has undertaken a vain task. A pleasure almost worth living for, is the virgin view of Castel-à-mare.

After an excellent breakfast, to which the morning air enabled us to do ample justice, we commenced our ascent of that part of the Apennines which separates the Bay of Naples from the Gulf of Salermo, and which is generally known by the name of the Sorrentine Range, or the Mountains of Minerva. Never did I traverse so magnificent and rich a country. All the charms of which wood and water, and grassy slopes, and towering precipices, and smiling villages, can give to rural landscape, presented themselves here. Deserting the main road, we pursued our way beneath the shadow of ancient chesnut trees, which spread their majestic branches over our heads, reminding us of the poet's " ingenti ramorum umbra." The ground over which we trod presented one continued thicket of the most beautiful shrubs, and we were obliged to open a way for ourselves through the interlacing branches of the myrtle and arbutus, which shed their delicious fragrance round us as we passed. Sometimes shut in on every side by those vast forests, we could see nothing but the verdant canopy above, and a long vista of moss-grown trunks and luxuriant evergreens beneath. At others, when we had gained one of the frequent points of elevation, where perhaps some tall precipice sinking beneath our feet, caused a wide opening in the surrounding foliage, a noble expanse of hill and dale lay before us. Green cultivated valleys, sometimes hemmed in by high impending rocks, and sometimes sloping upward with a gentle acclivity till they were lost in the wood-clad steeps of the surrounding mountains ; streams of water meandering gently through the forest glade, or dashing with a sullen roar over rocks and precipices till they were hid beneath masses of overhanging foliage, and clouds of vapoury spray ; here and there, perched on the very highest pinnacles of the hills, the tall circular turrets of the " columbiere,"

with occasional towns, ancient castles, villages, and convents, scattered along the green valleys beneath, or "bosomed high 'mid tufted trees," on the slopes of the mountains, formed the most prominent features of the landscape, unfolded to our view, at each successive opening in the forest. I have seldom seen a place that, within so small a circle, presents so many splendid subjects for the pencil, or that more fully combines all the various features that compose the beau ideal of the mountain landscape.

A somewhat fatiguing, though truly delightful walk, brought us, about midday to the highest summit of the range, and as our appetites began to warn us that it was time to take some refreshment, we looked around for a convenient spot to spread the frugal meal with which we had furnished ourselves. We were clambering down a steep and precipitous path, for this purpose, when our attention was arrested by the sound of some very harmonious voices trolling forth the chorus of a well-known national canzonette. Pursuing our course in the direction of the music, which seemed to proceed from a neighbouring clump of trees, it was not long till we came in view of a group of pea sants who were resting during the heat of the day, being thus far on their road to Naples with fruit and other rural produce for market. They reclined upon a green sloping bank, completely sheltered from the rays of the sun by overshadowing branches of some tall majestic chesnuts; a brook of clear water brawled over its bebbly bed at their feet, and on the opposite side the little amphitheatre was enclosed by a high craggy rock, round whose brow clustered masses of luxuriant foliage. The picturesque costumes of these people, the short jackets, large shadowy hats, and trellix laced sandals of the men, and the gay lively colours of the female attire, harmonized well with the surrounding scenery, and imparted to the whole a peculiarly pleasing effect. Our offer to join our little stock of provisions to theirs was cordially accepted, and we were soon on the best possible terms. The wine-flask circulated briskly, amid lively conversation and peals of laughter; the song echoed through the woods, and we joined the nimble-footed" contadine" to the best

of our ability in the graceful Tarantella. Our new friends communicated to us a great deal of useful information regarding our journey, and we parted with many greetings and kind wishes on both sides. For our own parts, we congratulated ourselves on having had an opportunity of forming an opinion of the Italian peasant from a criterion more correct than is afforded by the Lazzaroni at Naples.

The limbs of my companions and myself having been for some time more accustomed to pace the level planks of a man-of-war, than to encounter the rude precipices and tangled passes of the Apennine Mountains, we arose from our slight repast with stiff and aching joints, and pursued our path with somewhat less alacrity than when we first breasted the hill above Castel-á-mare. Our road, though we were now fain to adhere to the beaten track, was still rough and precipitous, winding through deep ravines and up difficult passes, till it at length emerged from the mountain defiles, and skirted along the tops of the cliffs that overhung the gulf of Salerno. Here, a magnificent panorama of land and water opened before us, and presented a prospect to be rivalled only by the Bay of Naples itself. Worn out as we were, however, our only object at present was to reach the place of our destination; and it was with no small delight that, after winding down an abrupt precipitous path, at the bottom of a deep ravine, we at length entered Amalfi.

Amalfi, beautiful and picturesque as it appears from a distance, rearing its humble walls at the foot of majestic mountains, verdant with foliage, and high overhanging rocks, surmounted by ruined battlements and broken towers, has within an appearance of extreme wretchedness, filth, and desolation; different indeed from that Amalfi whose wealthy merchants once monopolized the trade of the Levant, whose alliance was courted by the neighbouring powers, and on whose valorous inhabitants Pope Leo conferred the honorable title of Defenders of the Faith. Mean, miserable-looking houses, narrow, dirty streets, and the scattered ruins of battlements and towers, are all that remain of this once opulent city. The mistress of the ocean, the centre of commerce, she who