demons, for an hour, pounced upon the crumbs of bread, morsels of salad and fish, while the indefatigable Antonio drained the last drops of the Capri, and carolled forth a note of thanksgiving, interspersed with an earnest exhortation for the bystanders to taste his ostriconi.

The hostess patted us on the back, as we affectionately embraced her at parting, and hoped, by all the saints, I Signori would come and test her good cheer again.

Buckling on our swords, we resumed our tour. After the hearty supper and generous wine, we felt charitably inclined, and accordingly we selected a poor blind cripple, with a brace of famished blind children at his side. To feed this party, we found a difficult matter; for on leading them to the caldrons of macaroni, before the dispenser thereof could fill and hand a platter, the myriads of starving creatures around would snatch and devour it like magic. As a last resort, we barricaded the blind group in an angle by a casemate, where they were enabled to swallow their portions in peace.

After this affair was settled, we concluded to part with Santa Lucia, having decided, on mature reflection, that we had acquired a taste for low life. Ascending the broad stairs, attended by the impish trio of urchins, we bent our footsteps towards the mole.

The hour was late, but yet the streets and piazzas were thronged, and no languor was visible under the influence of the soft, refreshing Italian night. It is in the summer's night, long after the orange-heated glow of sunset has passed, that all Italy wakes fairly into life.

We sauntered lazily on, stopping at intervals to rest on the balustrade over the Arsenal, or on the rim of a fountain, or to listen to the delightful music in the front of the palace; to sip a drop of cool lemonade in that execrable Café Europa; and to pause for a long gaze at the noble equestrian statues, which stand at the northern gateway of the palace. All the while our ballet-boys, little gamins as they were, marched, danced, skipped, or sang snatches from operas, invariably ending their vocal performances with the tarantella.

In due course, we reached the quay, and were hailed by the usual salutations of scores of boatmen: "Takee bote, sare; go bode." "Here de man-y-warr-bote, official," and

so forth.

We chose an individual from the gang, but when on the point of giving some slight recompense to our corps de ballet, our intentions seemed to be divined; for, like a shower, there fell upon us a troop of young vagabonds, who sprang so suddenly from the shade of the piers and walls, and resembled so closely our own especial imps, that we were utterly unable to distinguish them from their companions.

We were in a quandary; and not caring to distribute largesse to the whole community, while the din and shrill clamor waxed alarming, we were on the point of retreating to the boat, when a happy thought occurred to us. Commanding silence for an instant, we trilled forth a quick note of the tarantella, which being immediately taken up by our own little chorus, leaping and chanting to the music, we seized them by the arms, and were thus enabled to indulge them with a few coppers.

Then paddling through the fleets of merchant vessels which filled the port, we gained a cool offing in the bay, mounted to the deck of the frigate, and so betook ourselves deep down to our oaken parlors in the cock-pit.

On the evening of the 6th of July, as the first breath of the land wind came over the bay from the flanks of Vesuvius,

the frigate's sails filled, and she began to glide noiselessly away from Naples.

I sat in one of the bow ports indulging in a dreamy state of forgetfulness, hearkening to the strains of delicious music which came floating over the water from the military bands at the palace of King Ferdinand, or tracing the torchlight processions which wound their tortuous course by the Marina and Santa Lucia-for of course it was a festa-while myriads of sparkling tapers, range upon range, up to the castle of Saint Elmo, marked out the terraced city; and the moon, rising above all, shed her white beams from the shaded heights of the Sorrento shore, to the sleeping islands of Capri and Ischia in the distance. The effect even to a sailor was charming.

The following morning the pretty scenes of the night had vanished the moon and the lights had been extinguished by the fierce rays of the sun; the dome of the volcano was barely visible astern, and blue water was around us.

We made in due time the Lipari Isles; and that night Stromboli glared luridly, as at regular intervals it sputtered high in the heavens the red hot boulders, until the sun quenched its flames, and with the early rays of morning the shores of Sicily and Calabria broke forth in green, smiling dimples far up the radiating ridges and valleys inland.

The Faro of Messina was before us, and taking a pilot-boat alongside, we boldly entered the Strait.

There has been a deal of good measured classic verse written and sung upon the wonders of this abode of sea monsters, such as: