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Without caring a pin whether wrong it or right is, Throws a dog into spasms, the barbarous wretch,

By immersing it in what they call the mephitis. And the day was so hot, and the place was so tainted, I declare I'd an excellent mind to have fainted. For the turf was as smooth as though purposely made For a girl at full length by her swain to be laid ; With the wave of the Lago for mixing quite handy With eau-de-Cologne, or the least drop of brandy. But to-day 'twas no use; for that wicked blue-stocking, As usual, her arm with the dear man's was locking; And she prosed, and she lectured, concerning the worst

air That ever was scented by mortal: but first, ere With the cause of the mischief such wiseacres load ye, They should say which smells strongest, the cave or

custodè.

To Pozzuoli (for now it grew later and later)
We were hurried to see the old amphitheatre.
But it looked like a place which they throw all their

dirt in;

And it never had any snug boxes to flirt in:
And we passed Monte Nuovo that rose in a night;
Don't

you

think half the folks must have died of the fright?

And went on, by the route of the guide books, that

doom ye

To Lucrinus, Fusaro, and Baiæ, and Cumæ,
And Styx, and Elysium, all equally gloomy;
And a cavern where eggs are done hard in a fountain
Of boiling hot water that springs in the mountain :
But we could not help thinking 'twas better to turn us
About when we came to the shades of Avernus :
For Tom wisely exclaimed “We came out for a revel;
But this looks too like going straight to the devil."
But Miss Skim-milk declared 'twas a meal for the mind;
A feast of true taste, intellectual, refined :
But I thought 'twas made up of an infinite deal
Of old rubbish, and reckoned our lunch the true meal.
And whilst we were eating, two dark contadinas

Were performing before us the dance Tarantella ; But I felt all the time that their looks and demeanours

Were such as would make me grow speedily yellow; For I freely confess I was jealous my

lover Saw their kicks and their flings, and felt glad when

'twas over.

Then with spirits worn out, almost jaded to death,
We got into the coach to recover our breath ;
But I rallied when through Pausilippo we past,
And saw the gas lights on the Chiaja, at last.

All the evening Papa and Miss Skim-milk were hunting

In Virgil for Cumæ, and Styx, and Misenus ; But I and the Colonel each other sat fronting,

And nobody saw the looks passing between us.

And now I have told you what books I am reading, Perhaps one of these days I may set my plough speeding. But, dearest, not even a match shall dissever From you, her who writes herself,

truly,

your's ever,

P.S. Poor Miss S. who, you see, is my darling aversion, In Lord Shrimp's yacht is gone on a sailing excursion. It would suit her romance to sit under the awning, And talk of blue billows, and stuff, half the morning. But I trust, by this time, she is, nose, lips, and forehead, The complexion of tallow-delightfully horrid. You must know some one else might have had an invite; But, for my part, I don't choose to risk looking white; But if she is bilious, a squall may recruit her ; And I'm sure the blue Grotto at Capri will suit her.

CONVICTS AT CASTELAMARE.

EXTRACT FROM MANUSCRIPT JOURNAL.

BOTH here and

elsewhere, along the coast, I have

often been struck with the appearance of the gangs of convicts, “fast bound in misery and iron," condemned to toil for various periods of years in the stone-quarries by the sea side. These localities are always singularly beautiful; and, with the attending circumstances, take great hold on the mind; for it is manifest that wherever the blue sea of the south rolls up to an abrupt line of rocky cliff, the scene, in all weathers, calm or stormy, is imposing and interesting. And when the gangs of convicts are at work, the clank of their fetters, and the blows of their tools, in measure perhaps with some wild song, and the distribution about the huge grey masses of rock of the men in their coloured dresses, in active groups,

and strained attitudes, in strong contrast with the motionless sentry standing over them, the combination presents as strange and impressive a sight as can be imagined. It is also a scene replete with the most magnificent studies that a painter could desire; and one about which we can

imagine the shade of Salvator Rosa still to be lingering. Nor is the picture less striking when they rest from their labours at noon. You may then, if so inclined, study more closely their countenances, and their general appearance, as they lie asleep on the fragments of rock which they have been engaged in detaching; or sit conversing in groups, in low discordant tones, with a solemn savageness of aspect; or engage one with another at the ancient pastime of Mora, at which these men play with a stern concentrated earnestness of voice and gesture that is peculiarly characteristic. Enormous birds of the hawk tribe are constantly seen wheeling round the cliffs over their heads; and it requires but a small effort on the part of the beholder to bring the natural objects presented to his attention to bear upon the condition of the individuals before him, and thus to associate the whole with the conception of the Prometheus Vinctus ; or with the description by Milton of the fallen beings who sate apart, inquiring of good and evil, and final happiness and misery. But let us not forget that these unhappy beings before us are our fellow-creatures. Let us pass on our way: close our common-place book : and betake us to meditation.

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