Observing a priest walking in one of the aisles, I ventured to accost him, asking him if he could tell me where was the Cena. He replied that he was himself a stranger, but, pointing to a door not far from where we stood, he told me I should there find the sacristan. We followed his directions, and, passing down a long dark passage, unhesitatingly opened a door which seemed to terminate it. Not finding this the case, and meeting no one, we still advanced until we came to a large stone hall; this was empty, and we were just about to turn back when, through a partially opened door, I perceived a monk sitting at a table writing. Concluding him to be the sacristan, I advanced towards him; at the sound of footsteps he raised his eyes, and instantly starting up, uttered a most vehement exclamation of horror. His sudden motion completely startled me, and I stood where I was, in vain attempting to make known our request. His gesticulation became so violent, and his screams-for indeed I cannot call them words-so wholly unintelligible, we could only gaze at his frantic excitement with surprise. At length the oftrepeated "la Signora " threw some degree of light upon the subject, and my immediate retreat produced a more soothing effect than all my efforts at explanation. In fact, I had unconsciously entered the sacred precincts of the monastery belonging to the church; and his horror at seeing a woman where probably none had ever appeared before had taken from him all presence of mind. His distress, however, was so real, that I could only most humbly express my regret, informing him that a priest had directed us to seek the sacristan by the door at which we had entered. He seemed pacified when he learned these particulars, and yet more so when he saw us fairly into the church. When all was over, we enjoyed a hearty laugh.'-p. 58.

We should like to know what place is sacred from the innocent audacity of an exploring Englishwoman! Let them laugh who can; we are inclined to take part with the poor monk thus recklessly tricked into transgression and out of peace. Nor is this by any means a singular example. We know another most charming Englishwoman driven out of a garden, where of course she had no business, with this emphatic repudiation of her society-qui non ci vogliono donne-sturbano la nostra tranquillità! But it is of little use shutting the convent door after the lady has been in. Doubtless, if the truth were known, the repudiation came too late for the tranquillità. We resume where we broke off.

6

As we were leaving the church, however, we saw a party of strangers accompanied by a man who proved to be the sacristan. He took us to a small dark corner behind one of the aisles, and pointed out the painting we had sought. I was exceedingly disappointed, having heard that this Last Supper by Procaccini was much celebrated. I am afraid I may sometimes seem almost presumptuous in thus venturing to form my own opinion about many of these famous works of the old masters;'-[We were not aware that this Cena was a B 2 famous

"

famous work, or Procaccini an old master whom it was any heresy not to admire ; but, in the first place, I can only speak of the impression they make on my own mind, and, moreover, I never can admire anything because I am bid. I once overheard a party discussing various paintings. They evidently wished to do their duty scrupulously; but one of them ventured to express a doubt as to the degree of admiration to be bestowed on a very dark, fearful-looking pictureone an artist might appreciate, but which none else could possibly regard with pleasure. The very doubt seemed to astonish the rest of the party, and one exclaimed, "Oh! how can you? Murray says so." Many a time since has the expression recurred to me, "Murray says so;" and therefore perforce it must be "beautiful! exquisite !" &c. But to return. We retraced our steps to the hotel, and greatly enjoyed a really comfortable meal after the wretched fare of the last few days. The heat, even during the night, was overpowering, and, combined with the torments of living animals, effectually put sleep to flight. I rose and looked out between one and two o'clock in the morning upon a strange and beautiful spectacle. The lights sparkling like gems all round the bay-the rich glow of the ruby beacon-light upon the Molo Vecchio, like a star watching over the slumbering city-the phantomlike vessels dimly revealed in the darkness, with here and there a twinkling light on the waters-the marble whiteness of the houses near, and the utter stillness around-nothing to be heard save the breaking of the swell against the rocks.'-p. 59.

We have purposely left those two ominous words in italics standing. A few pages further on we are indulged with an amplification of the same theme. The lady describes a night of horrors rather minutely succeeded of course by a burst of injured innocence from the landlord next morning :-'Madame was the first person who had ever seen anything of the kind in his house. The subject is not attractive, but it is curious. These protesters of injured innocence are like the Devil-worshippers. They cannot, it is true, conceal the existence of their idol (would that they could!); but they deny it as religiously. Differences of climate, country, and race vanish before the mysterious bond which unites all landlords and landladies in one unfailing falsehood—they are one people, speaking one language all over the world. No matter where the traveller may be assailed-in Naples, Archangel, Madrid, or London-on couch, divan, French bed, or four-poster -the same wonderfully concerted answer meets your ear the next morning;-host or hostess are ready to pledge their souls that you are the first person ever so disturbed under their roof. You protest that you never closed your eyes-they are perfectly unmoved: you show the burning fires which the enemy have kindled in their passage-fires, alas! which no ingenuity can quench until they expire of themselves-your friends suggest gnats or ants ;

finally,

finally, you display a trophy of fallen foes-but the defence is ready-you brought them with you! The stronger your evidence, the bolder their denial. Never was there a community whose unity was so complete, or whose idol so abominable! You may possibly hope to reclaim a cannibal, convince a Brahmin, or convert the Pope; but you need never dream of inducing one of these detected householders to own the truth.

The departure from Genoa is another beautiful moving panorama, set to music too.

'On leaving Genoa we entered upon the loveliest drive, I believe I may say, in the world! the Riviera di Levante. The road begins almost immediately to ascend after passing the environs of the city, and from the first summit of the overhanging mountains there is a magnificent view of Genoa with its harbour and ships, its towers, domes, and spires, with thousands of white houses dotting the sides of the hills which surround it. We stopped here and looked back on the proud city below, and out upon the blue Mediterranean, impressing that panorama on our memory as perhaps lovelier than we had ever seen or were likely to see again! and yet, as we proceeded, new scenes of beauty opened upon us, such as do indeed baffle description, though one cannot help at least trying to convey an idea of what has given such intense enjoyment. The sides of the hills, abruptly sloping to the coast, are covered with the brightest vegetation, and shrubs that seem more suited to tropical climes grow in the richest profusion. There are olive and fig trees, with their many sweet and scriptural associations, carrying one's mind to the times of our blessed Lord his beautiful parables and lessons of heavenly wisdom; vineyards casting garlands and festoons from tree to tree, and giving added grace to each; orange and lemon groves, with their dark green leaves and golden fruit; pomegranates and palms; cypresses, like tall spires, towering above; and the stone pine, beautiful in itself, but still more so from its associations in one's mind with the lovely landscapes of Claude Lorraine. Hedges of the sword-like aloe, and everywhere the cactus or Indian fig, grow in the greatest luxuriance on the very ledges of the rocks which rise from the sea-shore. Here and there the rich berries of the Arbutus appear like bunches of coral, while sweet roses bloom from every little nook; and all this but as the minute finishing of the grander features of the landscape. One lovely bay succeeds another—some soft and still, with a pebbly beach on which the waves seem to flow gently, as though whispering sweet music; others again have bold and rugged shores, overhung with dark rocks and precipices, the hidden breakers underneath only revealed by the angry foam of the receding waves, urged by the swell of the sea upon them; while the hardy pine hangs over the very brink, as though vainly seeking its reflection in the troubled waters below. Stretching far away in its calm bright loveliness till lost in a flood of dazzling light, is the blue, the ever beautiful Mediterranean. The houses and villages with gay painted gables, scattered here and there, stand sometimes so high on

the

the mountains, that it seems a marvel how human power could have placed them there. The terraced gardens, with statues peeping out from the flowers and other gay decorations, strike one at once as so in harmony where all is bright, and where sky and earth and sea seem enjoying a continual holiday. Onward we went through this paradise, till, after climbing a very steep part of the mountain, we stopped at a little inn most beautifully situated on the side of a wooded bank, with a grove of acacias before it. Here the view already enjoyed as we ascended, opened out still more magnificently; such a panorama of varied picturesqueness I never looked on. The air, too, not only breathed fragrance, but seemed pouring forth its joyous notes. It was just twelve o'clock when we reached the village inn, and all the bells of the churches were chiming.'-p. 66.

Rome and Naples, with all the beauties and wonders in and around each, pretty much divide this volume. There is plenty of temptation to quote, but we must content ourselves with this description of an angry Vesuvius by night, witnessed, it may be, by many, but seldom described so accurately. Prognostications of a coming eruption had been afloat for some weeks-the mountain had been uneasy, rumbling noises had been heard, the wells at Resina were dried-and at length, on the 31st of January (1846), a stream of lava was reported to have burst forth on the side next Naples. This was the time for English spirit and daring to inspect the menacing volcano, and accordingly a party was arranged to ascend and remain above till the darkness of night. The day was misty, but as they approached the Hermitage the smoke from the descending lava became visible.

'Leaving our animals upon the level platform above the Hermitage, to which has been given the name of the Sala di Cavalli, we started amid the good-humoured cheers of the guides on our toilsome way. About a fifth of our ascent from this point had been accomplished, when, on pausing and looking upwards, we could very plainly both hear and see the slow downward progress of a body of lava, hissing and rattling among the loose cinders as it overwhelmed or dislodged them, and occasionally sending huge pieces bounding down the steep declivity in a way that endangered not a little those below. Soon after, we came opposite the lower end of this smoking stream, and approached cautiously to obtain a nearer view of it. Even here it was of a glowing red heat upon the surface, though often so covered over with floating cinders and enveloped in smoke that the actual deep red of the fire was obscured. On looking to the summit we could see against the sky-as one does on looking from below up to the shoot of a cataract above-the stupendous torrent slowly lipping over the edge of the large crater, like a huge, hissing, fiery snake deliberately crawling forth from its lair down upon its victims beneath. The motion is peculiarly steady and slow, even where the angle of its descent is most abrupt, and accompanied, from the movement of the

loose

loose cinders which impede or attend its progress, with a kind of trinkling sound, somewhat resembling that caused by fragments of ice hurstling each other in a half-frozen river. On reaching the summit we found a considerable change in the appearance of the large crater since our former visit. Instead of the comparatively level platform of hard lava, lying 10 or 12 feet lower than the edge on which we stood, and extending to the cone of the active crater in the centre, we found the whole surface greatly elevated, broken up and heaved into irregular piles, evidently from the recent throes of the volcano beneath. Across this space, slowly winding among its chasms and irregularities, on came the moving lava towards the outer verge, where, after making a circuit almost beneath our feet, it swept round the mound on which we were stationed, and poured over the edge, sending up a heat and a sulphuric atmosphere almost intolerable within a few yards. After a little breathing space here, we went round the verge to a spot at some distance from the running lava, where the surface was not too hot to tread on, and there bivouacked comfortably, producing our basketstores wherewith to beguile the remaining hours till sunset. After this event takes place, an Italian twilight does not long try the patience of those who long for darkness, as on this occasion we did. And now it was we found the fog amid which we had ascended an advantage to the scene. As evening drew on, the darkness was rendered by it doubly obscure, and the reflection of the lava upon the misty atmosphere, dispersing a fiery tinge above and all around, was beautiful and grand beyond description. Hitherto, during the time we waited, the volcano itself had been peculiarly quiet and inactive-only one slight explosion occurring, so much that we feared a disappointment, and a party who had arrived before us actually took themselves off in despair. A hint from our good friend Salvatore made us act more wisely, and we were abundantly rewarded.

'At six o'clock we were startled from our resting place by a tremendous outburst, which seemed the beginning of a continued series for the whole evening. We sprang to our feet, and, stumbling with great difficulty over the jagged masses of lava, scarcely half-cooled, and through an atmosphere at times pungent and stifling to an intolerable degree, we traced the fiery stream to its fearful source. Taking up our position immediately below the crater, we stood in breathless admiration, watching its convulsive throes succeeding each other at intervals of one or two minutes. At times it seemed to pause a little as though for breathing space, then to increase in fury, sending up its roaring volleys of blood-red stones and dazzling meteors five or six hundred feet into the deep black night of the sky, rendered yet more black and dark by the smoke of the volcano, which at this hour usually collects in murky clouds about the mountain-top. These brilliant messengers, after describing a graceful parabolic curve, fall round the sides of the cone in a shower of splendour-mingling much of the beautiful with the terrible. The scene and our position were extraordinary indeed, and the feelings of awe, fascination, and subdued excitement, such as are likely to be but seldom called forth in the same

degree