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Following the lights and shadows of the clouds,
Then my heart was glad :
Sweet compensation, which thy gesture, look,
At some future day
Naples, March, 1844.
EREat Naples we are for this sweetest of winters;
But I think, for the sake of my journal, 'tis pity We have travelled so far with scarce any adventures ;
Nor have even been rifled by whiskered banditti. But Naples, I find, is a paradise sunny,
And a place for the picturesque famous, and for all
The most delicate cameos and bracelets of coral,
Our parties of pleasure, or so said to be,
you, Though Papa likes her much, she's a terrible blue.
She and I are best friends, but I'm shrewdly suspecting She would fish in the water my heart's-ease was wrecked
But she soon shall find out who must go to the wall, If she casts her sheep's eyes at the Colonel—that's all!
T'other day, though Miss S. said the weather was
“ pluvious," On a bright sunny morning we went to Vesuvius. And when we got there, she declared 'twould demean her To be carried by men in a vile portandina. But for my part, I was not so squeamish or nice; And up on their shoulders I jumped in a trice. But I own I was frightened when on the steep lava, They quarrelled, and swore, in their foreign palaver! And whilst I to rights was my petticoats putting, They kept looking up, without minding their footing. At the top every way they desired me to look ; But I vow I was blinded with vapours and smoke; And coughed, sneezed, and retched, all the while I was
picking The wing of a very consumptive young chicken. But I left, in descending, Miss S. in the distance ; And flew down with such slips, glissadings, and
dashes, That although I secured the dear Colonel's assistance,
I was up to I can't tell you where in the ashes. Miss Skim-milk declared the jaunt cost her a sonnet: But I know what it cost me—shoes, jupon, and bonnet.
Next we went to Pompeii, the city, you know,
That was buried for ages in lava and cinders ; But they've dug out the streets, and each house is a
show, Though you find neither furniture, roofs, doors, nor
windows. Here Miss S. who was quite in her element, said, As she threw up her eyelids, and twisted her head, “ O yes ! 'twas a city, indeed, of the dead !” But I wish
you had seen how she looked at me bitterly, When I said, “ Lal my dear, that's in Rogers's Italy !"
The next day we went to the Grotto del Cane: Though the Colonel and Tom said its fame was all