You see them crouching down among their sheep and pigs in the sheltered nooks of brick walls where the sun beats down hottest, in the hope to supply in that manner the heat, which the northern breezes from the distant mountains carry away, and to prolong for a few days a miserable existence, which, for their own sakes, one would think could not terminate too

soon.

This now long deserted and sterile region was once thriving and populous, as we know from history, and as must be inferred from the masses of ruin which lie everywhere scattered around; ruin of no imposing character but the crumbled walls and foundations of crowds of building, all the particular and intelligible forms of which have long ago disappeared... It was from these now idle and barren wastes that the mighty Capital once drew its supplies for its daily markets. Over these plains was once spread, also, a large population of the five or six millions that once, according to some, constituted the population of Ancient Rome, not more than a quarter of which could ever have been contained within Aurelian's walls... Successive revolutions and the violences of war, at first compelled the frightened inhabitants to take shelter within the walls of the city, and then the lands being gradually deserted by them and left without cultivation, the exhalations became pestilential from dampness and the corruption of neglected vegetation, and in no long time these plains, once fruitful as a garden, became poisonous to the constitution, and to the eye a spectacle of mourning and horror. Among the ruins of villa, castle, and farm thus abandoned, there then lurked in safe retreat the robber and the assassin; and from that day to this the passage of the Campagna has been unsafe. Ware.

SOCIETY AT NAPLES.

NOBILITY is nowhere so pure as in a barbarous state. When a nation becomes polished, its nobles either intermarry with plebeians, as in England; or they disappear altogether, as in France. Now Naples, in spite of all her fiddlers, is still in a state of barbarian twilight, which resisted the late livid flash of philosophy; and the nobility of Naples remains incorrupt. Though sometimes reduced to beg in the streets, still it is pure both in heraldry and opinion; for nothing here degrades it but mésalliance, commerce, or a hemp rope.

In fact, these children of the sun are too ardent to settle in

mediocrity. Some noblemen rose into statesmen and orators in the short-lived republic; some fell gloriously; others have enriched literature or extended the bounds of science; a few speak with a purity foreign to this court; and not a few are models of urbanity. If you pass, however, from these into the mob of gentlemen, you will find men who glory in an exemption from mental improvement, and affect "all the honorable points of ignorance." În a promiscuous company, the most noted sharper or the lowest buffoon shall, three to one, be a nobleman.

In the economy of the noblest houses, there is something farcical. In general, their footmen, having only six ducats a month to subsist on, must, from sheer hunger, be thieves. A certain prince, who is probably not singular, allots to his own dinner one ducat a day. For this sum his people are bound to serve up a stated number of dishes, but then he is obliged to watch while eating, for if he once turn round, half the service disappears. But such jugglers as these find a match in his highness; for whenever he means to smuggle the remains of his meal, he sends them all out on different errands at the same moment, and then crams his pockets for supper... Nevertheless when this man gives an entertainment, it is magnificence itself. On these rare occasions he acts like a prince, and his people behave like gentlemen for the day. He keeps a chaplain in his palace; but the poor priest must pay him for his lodging there. He keeps a numerous household; but his officers must play with him for their wages. In short, his whole establishment is a compound of splendor and meanness a palace of marble thatched with straw.

In this upper class, the ladies, if not superior in person, seem far more graceful than the men, and excel in all the arts of the sex. Those of the middle rank go abroad in black silk mantles, which are fastened behind round the waist, pass over the head, and end in a deep black veil; the very demureness of this costume is but a refinement in coquetry.

Even the lowest class enjoy every blessing that can make the animal happy a delicious climate, high spirits, a facility of satisfying every appetite, a conscience which gives no pain, and a convenient ignorance of their duty. Here tatters are not misery, for the climate requires little covering; filth is not misery to them who are born in it; and a few fingerings of maccaroni can wind up the rattling machine for the day.

They are, perhaps, the only people on earth that do not pretend to virtue. On their own stage they suffer the Neapolitan of

energy

the drama to be always a rogue. If detected in theft, a lazarone will ask you with impudent surprise, how you could possibly expect a poor man to be an angel? Yet what are these wretches? Why, men whose persons might stand as models to a sculptor; whose gestures strike you with the commanding of a savage; whose language, gaping and broad as it is, when kindled by passion, bursts into oriental metaphor; whose ideas are cooped indeed within a narrow circle in which they are invincible. If you attack them there, you are beaten. Their exertion of soul, their humor, their fancy, their quickness of argument, their address at flattery, their rapidity of utterance, their pantomime and grimace, none can resist but a lazarone himself.

you

On a people so fiery and prompt, I would employ every terror human and divine against murder; yet nowhere is that crime more encouraged by impunity. A mattress-maker called lately at the house where I lodged, with a rueful face, screeching, "Malora! Malora!" "What is the matter?" said my landlord. "My son, my poor Gennarro, has had the misfortune to fall out with a neighbour, and is now in sanctuary." "What! has he murdered him?" "Alas! we could not help it." "Wretch were you an accessory too?" Nay, I only held the rascal's hands while my poor boy dispatched him." "And call this a misfortune ? "It was the will of God: what would you have?" "I would have you hanged. Pray, how have you escaped the gallows? "Alas! it has cost me two thousand hard-earned ducats to accommodate this foolish affair." ..."And so the relations of the dead have compounded?" "No! no! the cruel monsters insisted on bringing us both to justice. You must know, one of the fellow's comrades is a turner, who teaches the prince royal his trade. This vile informer denounced me to his pupil, his pupil to the king, and the king ordered an immediate search to be made for me! but the police paid more respect to my ducats than to his majesty's commands... We have now pacified all concerned, except a brother of the deceased, a malicious wretch, who will listen to no terms." "He does perfectly right." "Not if he consult his own safety. My Gennarro, I can assure you, is a lad of spirit.' "Miscreant! would you murder the brother too?" "If it be the will of God, it must be done. I am sure we wish to live peaceably with our fellow citizens; but if they are unreasonable, if they will keep honest people away from their families and callings, they must even take the consequences, and submit to God's holy will." My landlord, on repeating this dialogue to me, added that the mattress-maker is much

respected in Naples, as an upright, religious, warm-hearted man, who would cheerfully divide his last ducat with a friend. Forsyth.

...

ATHENS TO CORINTH.

THE position of Athens in regard to natural beauty is wonderfully fine. I concerned myself but little with the remains of the Temple of Athene, the fortifications, and the old caves of refuge still to be found here. These things are uninteresting and insignificant in comparison with the view which awaits us here, on the hill of Munychia ... Beneath us is the deep blue, sunlit sea, with gina and Salamis not far off, and the dim violetcolored rocks of Paros and Thermyra; at a greater distance, in wonderful clearness, the innumerable bays and mountains, and rocky projections of the far-stretching shores of the Peloponnesus And if we turn towards the land, the Attic plain lies before us in splendor and beauty, to describe which the forms and colors of the painter are powerless, much more these poor colorless and formless words... The pillars of the Acropolis radiate towards us a golden splendor; the gleaming roofs of the houses of the city, and the resplendent whiteness of the high marble masses of the royal palace, introduce life and motion into the calm repose of the landscape. Close below us, the silvergrey leaves of the fresh olive grove, through which, here and there, the glittering waves of the Cephissus appear, form, with their changeful play of color, an effective middle ground, which gently interposes between the fresh blue of the sea and the gorgeous coloring of the city and the mountains... The scenery around Athens presents a harmonious ensemble of the most distinct forms; it must necessarily have produced in the Athenians a clear and precise mode of thinking, and a keen sense for the well-developed and complete. Even to the most sceptical mind, it must become evident at last in what an intimate relation the Greek temple, Roman architecture, and the grand fulness in the forms of the Italian painters stand to the broad and calm forms of the Greek and Italian mountains. And how, on the other hand, the Gothic dome, and the whimsical, obstinate faithfulness to nature in the works of the old German måsters, descending almost to portrait, corresponds in a similar manner to the capricious zigzag so frequently characterising German mountain scenery.. ... The heights which inclose the valley of Athens are not so near as to embarrass the eye of the spectator, nor are they so distant as to melt into indistinctness.

In the Athens of modern times, filthy huts are certainly

not wanting; yet by far the larger number of the houses in its two streets consists of two stories, presenting sometimes quite an elegant appearance. Here you find windows with glass panes, folding street doors, often balconies surmounted usually by an ornamental coping... Here are the shops and coffee-houses; and if you saw the crowded barbers' shops, on a level with the street, and serving the Greeks of to-day, just as they did those of ancient times, as places of resort for gossiping and amusement; if you could look through the open doors and windows into the workshops of the hatters, shoemakers, and tailors, carrying on their business almost in the open air, you would find yourself in the midst of the same cheerful and noisy street-life which delights in Italy. Only, there is still greater variety here, and everything glitters in gayer and more glaring colors.

Among the women, a strict distinction is observed in regard to dress. That of the married and unmarried ladies of the upper classes—or, I should rather say, of those who live in the better parts of the town-is almost entirely European, excepting the small red fez, round which are wound the massive plaits of their luxuriant hair, which is preserved, with conscious coquetry, as a national symbol. In the remoter streets and corners again, that same Albanian costume prevails universally, which, with more or less striking variations, is found throughout the whole country....A long woollen gown, of a texture close enough to prevent the skin from shining through, flows from the neck down to the ankles, and is confined by a red girdle passing round the loins. Over this gown, and, like it, of a white ground, and of the same shape, they wear a shorter woollen garment, but with a long black stripe passing down the back from each shoulder. If it is a holiday garment, it has an embroidered border, red or black, according as the wearer is married or unmarried. The head is covered with a white scarf, draped in thoroughly antique style The costume of the women comes far nearer the dress of the ancient Greeks than that of the men. Down to this very day, the girdle which confines their garments is the boast of Greek women quite as much as in the times of Homer.

The road from Athens to Corinth is by Eleusis and Megara. At our side we have the sea with the rhythmic rise and fall of its waves, and Salamis and Egina with the fine outlines of their rocky heights; and as we approach the isthmus, the picturesque coast of eastern Argolis opens gradually on the view... Now we are lost in a mountain pass; then the gorge widens, and allows a glorious view of the blue mirror of the sea, and the mountains of Megara. After riding another half