white buildings, scattered along their wild declivities. At the above named village, the principal chain of the Apennines retreats towards the east, and thence sweeps to the north, forming a vast amphitheatre, in the midst of which Vesuvius rears its insulated cone three thousand feet above the level of the sea. Along the base of the mountain, on the eastern shore of the bay, extends an almost unbroken line of white villages, comprising Castellamare, Torre dell'Annunziata, Torre del Greco, Resina, and Portici. Near the last of these towns, the faubourg of Naples commences, and the city stretches thence along the northern side of the basin, for a distance of five or six miles, including the western suburbs. The remainder of the cape, whence we set out in tracing this circuit, is lofty and solitary with the excep tion of a few buildings sprinkled over the woody hills. So much for the most prominent features in the great and splen did panorama, which has been surveyed from almost every possible point of view, as well as under every variety of aspect, and never without delight. I have seen it in storm and sunshine; in the dimness of morning and evening twilight; in the glories of noon-day; and under the softer light of the full moon. The outlines of Naples itself may perhaps be traced to the best advantage from the water, in an excursion we made along nearly the whole extent of the city. A small stream divides the eastern faubourg from the royal village of Por tici. It is said that a large river here once fell into the bay, but was dried up and its fountains changed by the great eruption of Mount Vesuvius in the year 79. Coasting from this point westerly, the voyager soon makes the light, standing oddly enough upon the wharf, with a snug reading-room in the basement, not for the benefit of sea-faring men, but of the citizens, who see the lantern poised at an elevation of some fifty feet, and scarcely more prominent than a lamp at one of the windows of his Majesty's Palace. The port of Naples is small and unimportant, in comparison with many others, even in Italy. It is far inferior in dimensions, as well as in the quantity of shipping, to that of Genoa or Leghorn. It is of a square form, covering only a few acres, and defended on two sides by moles, constructed while the French had possession of the city in the 14th century. That part of Naples, which extends from the port north erly to the Strada Nuova and westerly to the Toledo, comprising the most populous district, is generally mean and dirty. Its situation is comparatively low, and its streets narrow and dark. At the foot of the Toledo commences what may be denominated the court end of the town. Here are the Royal Barracks, covering several acres on a level with the water, under the windows and terraces of the King's Palace. The façade of the Palace from the water looks like a large brewery. It exhibits neither taste nor spendour in its exterior, as seen in this direction. The terrace, shaded with domestic orange trees, is pretty. At a short distance to the east stands the Castello Nuovo-a shapeless pile, ornamented with Gothic bas-relief, and intended as an arsenal, something in the style of the Tower of London. It is yet in an unfinished state, and its vacant halls are without interest of any kind. The stately palace of the king at Capo di Monte, seated on the top of a woody hill two miles from town, forms at a distance a very prominent object. Prince Leopold's palace is a lofty edifice, and appears to much better advantage, than does that of his Majesty. West of the Toledo, the city assumes a more romantic character. The Tufo hills here become broken and rise to the height of more than a thousand feet, ranging along nearly parallel with the shore, and terminating in a high promontory at Baiæ. Back of the town, they are moderately clothed with trees and sprinkled with villas. The large old castle of St. Elmo hangs upon the brow, and completely overlooks the city and bay. It is much the most conspicuous object in Naples. Its commanding situation and the recommendations of guide-books, induced us to climb to the old convent of San Martino standing under its battlements-an undertaking of no small labour, on a warm day. The view of the hills and sea is very fine; but of the town you see little, save a waste of terraces and flat roofs. Even at this aerial height, the eye cannot fathom the fissures of the deep streets. The convent is at present occupied as a hospital of invalid soldiers. A small church is attached to it; but neither in its costly embellishments, nor in the neighbouring villas, to which we extended our excursion, was any thing observed particularly worthy of notice. The gardens are delightful in situation; but their walls of evergreen have been spoiled by the shears and pruning-hook. Terra cotta statues, Ve nuses with splintered arms, and emperors with broken noses, are as plenty as blackberries. Under the walls of St. Elmo, a spur of the bills called the Vomero shoots out at right angles to the range, terminating at the margin of the bay in a high perpendicular bluff, and dividing the town into two sections. Its summit is covered with buildings, overhanging the streets and quays of St. Lu cia and Chiatamone. A zig-zag terrace leads to its brow, forming a connexion between the upper and lower world, Directly under its cliffs, stands the Castello del Uovo. It is a monstrous pile, seated upon a little island, once the villa of Lucullus, which was separated from the main-land by an earthquake, and is now reunited by a draw-bridge. This and St. Elmo constitute the only defences of the town. From this point, and indeed from the foot of the Toledo, a fine quay, guarded by a balustrade, extends for nearly a mile along the shore of the bay. Between the seaa-wall and the splendid avenue of the Chiaia, lies the Villa Reale in the form of a parallelogram, half a mile in length, and perhaps five hundred feet in width, overhanging the water, and separated from the road by a handsome iron railing. It is intersected by gravel walks in all possible directions; planted with acacia, ilex, and other shrubbery, in the style of English park scenery; ornamented with two Grecian temples, one dedicated to Virgil and the other to Tasso; refreshed with fountains, meagre in comparison with those of Rome; and filled with statues, chiefly consisting of copies of the most celebrated pieces in Italy. The famous Farnese Bull was here once turned out to pasture, but is now confined to a dark, dirty stall in the Museum. Most of the other choice articles have also fled for covert, from the mildew of the sea air. We saw half a dozen lazzaroni at work with handspikes, in loading upon a dray some colossal god, destined to fill a niche in the gallery. The Royal Villa or more properly Garden, (for their is no lodge in it save a mean coffee-house, where the Neapolitans eat ice-creams and drink beer,) is the fashionable promenade for the higher classes, especially on Sunday afternoon, when they are attracted thither by the music of a large and excellent military band. On these occasions, the whole area, is filled with crowds of both sexes, in dresses more splendid than rich, more gaudy than neat. All the beauty which the city can boast flaunts along the alleys, and Austrian plumes and swords glitter among the shades. But the pedestrians do not compose the whole of the group. The Chiaia opposite the Garden, open to it on one side and bordered on the other by a range of lofty houses, is the termination of the Corso, where all the carriages and equipages in town parade every evening. Many of the fashionables, who probably dine on macaroni for six sous a head,* appear upon the course in style, with footmen in livery and chasseurs for their protectors! They often sit in their coaches for an hour at a time, to be gazed at through the iron grates of the Villa Reale, waiting for some whiskered hero from the banks of the Danube to come up and make his bow. The Our voyage terminated at the Royal Garden, (for which by the bye the Neapolitans are indebted to the French ;) but instead of lingering longer amidst its bustle and gaiety, let us walk on half a mile beyond, climb the hill of Pausilypo, and muse at the Tomb of Virgil. I have often strolled to this rural retreat and read many a favourite passage of the poet at his grave. My first visit was at sunset, in company with the American Chargé des Affaires at Naples, the United States Consul, and others of our countrymen. We were all delighted, though to most of the party the scene was not new. mausoleum is situated in a garden, shaded with vines and fig trees, on the southern brow of the hill, commanding one of the finest views of the whole bay, and its picturesque borders. Under a cliff overgrown with ilex, in the most secluded part of the enclosure, a rude monument of stone, in a ruinous condition, is consecrated by the name, though it no longer retains the dust, of the poet. The interior has a low arched ceiling, like a vault, with eight niches for cinerary urns in the sides, and three windows darkened by festoons of vines and ivy, with which the outside is richly mantled, giving it the appearance of a green mound. A tablet on the cliff opposite the entrance bears the following inscription: "Qui cineres? tumuli hæc vestigia ?-conditur olim Ille hoc qui cecinit pascua, rura, duces." * I am informed on good authority, that a majority of the Neapolitans live for about 10 cents per head a day for food. House rent is high, owing to a heavy property tax. "Whose ashes-the vestiges of whose tomb are these? Here rests the dust of the poet, who sung flocks, tillage, and heroes." Both the Latin and punctuation are so bad, that for some time we were puzzled to make out the meaning of the inscription. On turning to "the Classical Tour" of: Eustace for assistance, what was our astonishment to find a most egregious blunder even at the tomb of Virgil. Instead of giving the above lines, he places the following on the selfsame tablet: "Mantua me genuit; Calabri rapuere: tenet nunc He introduces this old distich with the remark, that "the epitaph which, though not genuine, is yet ancient," and that every body is acquainted with it!" Whereas it is not "ancient," (for it bears date of the 16th century ;) and there was one traveller at least who knew nothing about it. A detection of this gross error among others led us to believe, that the charges of Hobhouse against the authenticity of Eustace are not without foundation. In one of my rambles to the Tomb of Virgil, I visited the monument of Sannazaro, the great Neapolitan poet, and secretary of Frederick II. of Arragon. It is in the church of Santa Maria del Porto, elevated upon the acclivity of Pausilypo, and overlooking the bay. A superb pile of white marble rises behind the High Altar. The front is enriched with a profusion of sculpture, which is in bad taste. In allusion to some of the poet's pastoral writings, the skulls of two sheep are placed among the ornaments in front! But this is not the most ridiculous of the embellishments. Upon the pedestal of the statues of Apollo and Minerva, some pious monk has placed labels bearing in large letters the names of David and Judith, thus forcibly converting the heathen divinities into Hebrew saints, without even a change of costume! The inscription on the tomb pretends to compare Sannazaro with Virgil; but it is enough to remark, that while comparatively few are acquainted with the former, the latter is read throughout the civilized world. Even the Neapolitan children lisp his name, and seem proud of showing his mausoleum. In the same church, on the right of the front door, is a picture of the archangel Michael trampling Satan under foot. The devil is represented with the face of a pretty |