strolls in Capri, saw a beautiful girl in the old costume of the island bending over the edge of a frightful precipice. Hurriedly advancing, the kind man, in his best German-Italian, besought her to leave the dangerous spot. But the girl would not stir, only sadly shook her head.

"Lofely maid!" cried the German, "why do you despair? Are there no men more in the world, that you, so charming, so handsome, should weary of life? For, yes! I know your purpose, you seek to die!" Trembling with emotion the girl turned her head aside. "-Come," urged the German, "don't, pray

don't do it!"

At this the girl turned her streaming eyes full upon him, and starting up suddenly, answered, “The signore is right, I will not do it."

The German went away rejoicing; he had saved the poor creature's life. But the next day chancing to pass the spot again, he was thunderstruck by finding the same girl in the same attitude. He was about to seize her arm, when a loud voice behind him said,

"Please, sir, keep on one side! I can't see my model!" There was an artist at his easel behind a big rock. The German walked on.

At all seasons of the year Capri is a pleasant resort, Even in July and August fresh breezes temper the midday heat, and in winter the climate is delightfully equal. Delicate folk may enjoy a southern aspect, sheltered from every breath of north wind, among the olives of Quisisana, though the island has few conveniences or resources for those who are seriously ill, and the dust wind from Africa is often very trying in early winter. Spring, as everywhere in the south, is a brief season of delight. One day the fruit trees are still bare, cold blasts blow across from the snow-capped peaks of the mainland, the next you behold sea and rocks through a pink haze of almond and peach blossom, and hosts of wild flowers open their eyes to the warmth. It is as sudden a transformation as the Primavera of Botticelli.

The sun blazes with tremen

dous strength, the air is thin and pure, and all the effects are marvellously delicate.

But for long walks and scrambles-and who can be in Capri without longing to scramble?-late autumn is the best time. It is then that you mount the summit of Monte Solaro, and look beyond jewelled islands and jewelled sea, right away to the Roman mountains, then that you scale rocks and win your way by narrow ledges round the crags of Tragara, clinging with hand and foot to the rough limestone, and scarcely daring to give a glance to the blue depths of water a thousand feet below. It is then you find energy to explore the caves and grottoes, the Roman and mediæval remains, castle and monastery. And the spell of the island grows daily stronger; you cannot bid it good-bye. On our first visit it needed an eruption of Vesuvius to tear us away. It was a most dramatic finale to our Capri idyll. A rain of ashes fell on the island and lay many inches thick on the window-sills. We were choked and blinded by the fine impalpable dust, the air was murky as a London fog! The dull, dark sea rose against the rocks in long, oily swells, there were thunderous booms

from the distant mountain. Torre del Greco was shattered by earthquake, and at night the new twin craters on the flank of Vesuvius gleamed like monster owl's eyes across the sea. So Vesuvius snapped the spell of Capri, and the next day saw us embarked for Naples in a small rowing-boat. A few yards from shore, and where was our beautiful island? It was gone, vanished, lost in the dense cloud of ashes!

CHAPTER VII.

SAN MARTINO DI CASTROZZA.

SOUND asleep in the "Golden Ship," snuggest and quaintest of hostelries, why do I dream of the Italian opera in old Covent Garden? Why am I listening to Meyerbeer's Curfew Chorus, why watching the march of the Paris patrol? I wake with a start to find myself standing on the floor in the dark. Am I still dreaming? Where am I? What strange chant is ringing in my ears?

Vigilate pel fuoco; son battute le due; sia lodato il nome di Gesù Cristo." This is what I hear. I am

in Tirol, at Predazzo, and the town watchman is

going his rounds! I return to bed shivering and

"Beware of fire. 'Tis two in the morning. Praised be the name of Jesus Christ."