ing streets; beyond, imbosomed in rich foliage and shady trees, are scattered on the hillsides six thousand country seats of the more wealthy people; and behind all are the bleared and cloud-capped mountains. On the other side is seen the beautiful Mediterraneanfirst, the docks, old and new; then the harbor, in which is the island where is the prison in which Mirabeau was confined in his youth by his austere parent, which confinement made him the ferocious man that he was. Beyond stretches the boundless blue, and we were told that on every clear day we could see out forty miles, which statement you may credit if you please. The harbor was covered with neat gondolas, with fancy awnings, and lazy occupants lounging in the shade, while out to sea were seen the larger vessels, the full-rigged ship, and the puffing, bustling little steamers.

On Sunday, I embarked for Naples on board the Ercolano. I was somewhat reconciled to the necessity of sailing on that day, from the fact that I could spend the time as profitably on the deep as on the land, amid the parades of soldiers, the firing of cannon, and the ringing of bells. The first sound I heard in the morning was the discordant echo of the drum, and the last which fell on my ear, as we faded from the land, was the boisterous shout of sailors on the wharf. So, muttering as well as I could, and to the best tune I knew, —

I saw the busy seaport losing itself in the dim and misty distance.

I was amused now and then in noticing the habits of

the people. As we left the landing, a pleasant scene took place between some friends who had come down to see others off. When the intimation was given that we were about to start, these French people fell to kissing each other indiscriminately, fathers saluting sons, and mothers embracing daughters, brothers bringing their huge beards together, and a universal smacking taking place. Though I confess such a scene to be not exactly to my taste, yet I looked upon it as a beautiful exhibition of affection and regard, much better than the want of respect which is so often found among relatives and friends among us.

We had on board the Ercolano two full-grown, completely blossomed white friars, the first genuine ones I had seen. I had noticed monkery and priestcraft in Paris, but it was evident that the two fat, lazy, careless creatures we had with us trained in a company different from any I had seen. They were on their way to Rome, and one of them was the superior of his order, and was distinguished from his fellow by a ring, engraven with some cabalistic character, which he wore upon his finger. In other respects they were attired alike. They had on wooden sandals; white flannel trowsers of the coarsest texture and the most careless cut; a walking cloak, or chemise, or gown, which reached to the feet, of the same material; a rough leather belt around the body, to which were hung a few beads, a wooden crucifix, a small wooden skull, and a few other meaningless trinkets. On the head was a black nightcap, or something which would answer for it, covering a shaven crown. They seemed to be men of little energy or character. A blank, fadeless look, and an indifference to every thing around, seemed to characterize them, and they were objects of pity and contempt.

The sail down the Mediterranean is delightful. At one time, high hills and bluffs project out into the deepblue wave, and then come sloping banks, at the base of which little towns and villages cluster, and whose sides are covered with verdure. On some of the hills can be seen the ruins of ancient fortifications which have fallen into decay, and which declare to the stranger the lessons of his own frailty.

Our passage down was rendered pleasant by the formation of new acquaintances, as we had on board several Americans and Englishmen with whom we had not met before. The time passed away in animated discussions upon various subjects, and those of us who loved the sea were not overjoyed when our steamer approached the land.

XXI.

GENOA.

AFTER a passage of twenty-two hours, we entered the harbor of Genoa, and shot up towards the town, which is situated on the side of the hill, in a semicircle, forming a beautiful amphitheater of palaces. At a distance, the town looks small, and one would hardly imagine that it contained one hundred and fifteen thousand inhabitants, crowded into its toppling dwellings, which are piled story upon story, until they seem almost unable to stand alone. Passing around the light-house, we lay under the guns of the battery two or three hours, while some useless formality about our passports was taking place, when the gens d'armes graciously permitted us to land, extorting from us a fee, of course. We at length escaped from gens d'armes, tide waiters, commissioners, valets, and beggars, and reached the Hotel de la Ville, which was formerly a palace, built in Tuscan style, with a rough stone basement, upon which rose an elegant structure, to the hight of some five or six stories.

It was fête day when we arrived, and the lads and lasses were all out, arrayed in holiday attire. The latter were neatly dressed. The headdress was especially beautiful and becoming. It consisted of a thin white crape or muslin scarf, thrown over the head, falling

down upon the shoulders, and reaching nearly to the feet. These pretty women were moving through the streets, hanging on the arms of gayly-dressed soldiers, who are paid only a few cents a day for their services, or riding with fast horses along the crowded thoroughfare, and presenting a spectacle at once unusual and animating.

The churches of Genoa are very superb, and are filled with all sorts of trumpery, from the bones of a dead dog to a marble Beelzebub. The old cathedral is built in alternate layers of black and white marble, and is an interesting, though not a beautiful building. Here the superstitious Catholics claim to keep the bones of John the Baptist in a little chapel, under a marble sarcophagus. The bones are in an iron box, enclosed in another of marble. I ran my cane through a hole in the box, but could feel nothing like bones, nor could I start the old saint into life again, though I conjured him to speak. A great amount of money is raised upon these bones once a year, when they are taken out and a frolic held over them. In this cathedral is kept a dish, probably of glass, which the monks say is formed of a single emerald, called the Sacra Catino. Some affirm that it was presented by the Queen of Sheba to Solomon; others declare that it was the dish in which the paschal lamb was put at the great feast; and others still assure us that it was the dish in which Joseph of Arimathea caught the flowing blood of Jesus as he hung upon the cross. What nonsense!

Over the door of one church I saw the unhallowed inscription," Indulgentia plenaria quotidiana perpetua.” The streets were filled with priests and friars, black, white, and gray, dressed very much like those we saw on board the steamer, but more filthy, many of them